


as above, so below

by RoamingSignals



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Domestic, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, M/M, Magic, Modern Era, Pining, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Supernatural - Freeform, god johnny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 94,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22728127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoamingSignals/pseuds/RoamingSignals
Summary: If I save a god, Donghyuck thinks, over and over.If I save him, he will save me?
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 651
Kudos: 784





	1. like thunder under earth

**Author's Note:**

> bitch i'm back on my johnhyuck bullshit that I never get off of it's fine  
> a HUGE THANK YOU to everyone who dealt with me crying about this on twt, and to all of the people I forced to read it so far, and especially to ellie, who is my beta and my Rock thanks wow  
> AND THANKS TO LAUREN FOR THE TITLE WOW
> 
> if you don't like the ship, spend the next 20 minutes watching cat videos instead of hate reading
> 
> I wrote this chapter listening to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTqk-cQp5Gg&t=2239s) have a great time

Donghyuck has never believed in gods, but he believes there's more to this world than what he understands, and he knows he's desperate enough he has to believe in something. Prayers have never worked, but there are old whispers and hope echoing down from the mountain. Donghyuck plucks them out of the air when he has nothing left to lose.

His grandmother talked about old legends even on her deathbed, talked about people who formed mountains on sheer will alone, and others that returned sacrifice with blessings. Donghyuck was a dutiful grandson so he would smile and nod and pet her hair. She was old, and confused, but his mother says that the old woman would talk of the gods even in her youth, told Donghyuck's mother stories like they were fairy tales and then swore by them.

"She left rice on the windowsill over the kitchen sink every day for as long as I can remember," his mother said. "She said it was an offering. It always drove me nuts. The birds picked at it like crazy."

Mother still leaves rice on the windowsill, even after Grandmother passed away.

It doesn't do much beyond feed the birds, as far as Donghyuck knows. The faucet still leaks. The baby still gets sick and the hospital still charges them too much. Donghyuck still has to drop out of college.

 _It's a gap year,_ he tells himself. Even though it's not for just a year. The time is indefinite — until he's found his footing, until he's helped his mother enough that they're steady, until he wins the lottery and they're okay again.

The rice doesn't do much. Donghyuck wishes it did.

He holds some in his hands, leaning up against the kitchen window. The birds do pick at it, and they come every day, because they're fat and lazy. Donghyuck pets their heads and they twitter at him. There are worse ways to spend his morning.

But the whispers.

Anyone who truly believed in gods died out hundreds of years ago. These days, people talk about the old legends just to talk, not to worship. There's an old shrine in the middle of town. Grandma used to say the god who resided there brought the rain, and would give out blessings every time someone left him lavender.

"He had such a horrible time sleeping," Grandmother used to say.

"Did you know him?" Donghyuck asked, because he's a good grandson.

"Oh, no, dear." She sounded so wistful. "The mountain ate him long ago."

The mountain ate him. Donghyuck thinks about that so often. It sounds like a horrible way to die.

But gods don't die. That's what the whispers say, that gods can only be contained, never killed, and that somewhere out there is a hand reaching out of the earth, waiting for someone to pull him from his confinement.

Donghyuck looks at the forest outside his window. The bird eating out of his hand chirps, soft and small, and the sun rises. A constant cycle.

The temple is overrun with weeds now. It doesn't smell of lavender anymore, if it ever did. That's the sad truth of things. Donghyuck is sure it was beautiful once, when people still believed in the intangible.

It doesn't matter now. Donghyuck certainly doesn't believe.

He goes to work. He returns with no more money in his pocket, not until next Thursday, and Dohee needs to get ready for bed but the twins are too hyper to be bathed. Mother is working late at the hospital. Donghyuck cooks for three and feeds the baby off his own plate.

"Doyeon, I swear to God, if you don't come here right now." He grabs the six-year-old and wipes her messy face with a wet cloth. She screams, too loud. The house creaks. As soon as the mash is off her face Doyeon pulls off her dress and tears into the living room.

Donghyuck huffs, already exhausted. He smells like the kitchen he works in. The pile of tips is sitting out on the front table for his mother when she gets home. He takes hold of Dongseok's hand and leads him to their bedroom. Dohee is already sleeping in her crib. If Dongseok goes to sleep then Doyeon will follow. She always does, no matter how much she runs.

It's late, by the time the house is quiet.

Donghyuck thinks too much.

The trees keep whispering.

"Why did the mountain eat him?" Donghyuck had asked his grandmother.

"The world forgot him," she had said. "So the earth took him back until someone remembers."

"But you remember him."

"I'm not his someone, I guess." She was old and confused, and she'd fallen asleep before Donghyuck could tell her how little sense that made.

There are rumors in the hills, of course. There always are. When Donghyuck was in middle school one of his classmates had gone missing for four days. Renjun was his name, a quiet kid that had transferred in not long before. No one knew him before, but everyone knew him after the police had picked him up, wandering the streets like a wild animal.

"The mountain caught me," he'd said, when the other kids asked him about it. "Something didn't want me to leave."

It makes Donghyuck laugh now, looking back on it, but at the time it made goosebumps ripple over his arms. "Then how did you get out?" he'd asked. It was the first thing he'd ever said to Renjun, the first of many.

Renjun looked him dead in the eye. Donghyuck remembers it well, because his eyes were wide and deep and so knowing they were almost vacant — "I was the wrong person. I couldn't do what it wanted. What use do I have, then?"

Over time, the people forgot about Renjun and his ordeal, forgot about the kid the mountain caught, but Renjun never really forgot, and Donghyuck never really forgot, either. He hadn't known Renjun beforehand, not well, but he'd changed afterwards.

Renjun barely even talked before then. Now, he sings and it's so beautiful the world stops. Donghyuck doesn't know if he could do that before. He's always been too afraid to ask.

"Renjun is a superstitious idiot," Jaemin had said, still says to this day, even after they became friends. "Not everything can be explained by science, but most of it can. The rest is just chance."

But Donghyuck has always wondered how Renjun didn't die, lost in the wilderness for four days, and he's always felt like asking is the most frightening thing he could do.

Is Donghyuck a believer? Is there some small part of him that has been listening to the forest for the past twenty odd years of his life? Is he also a superstitious idiot?

He's so tired. His shoulders ache.

Donghyuck has given away so much over time. His grandma was taken from him, his father is never coming back, there are so many mouths to feed and not enough money. Not enough luck, and Donghyuck feels like it's steadily getting worse. He's seen the way his mother is selling off her valuables. She asked him how he'd feel about moving into an apartment, wouldn't that be nice? Smaller and cheaper and worse for a struggling family of five. Lovely.

His degree, gone. His friends, gone, working real jobs or studying or moving forward.

Donghyuck looks at the mountain. He looks at the bird on the windowsill, looking back at him. "Wouldn't it be silly," Donghyuck asks the bird, "if I was that god's someone?"

The bird nips at his fingers and then, unexpectedly, cries. She cries so loud, so human, that Donghyuck's heart shakes, and she takes off, into the house. Donghyuck curses, grabs for her, but she knows where she's going.

Through one window and out another, and Donghyuck stumbles after her, because he doesn't know what else to do. Into the backyard, and Donghyuck is grateful she has exited, because if Doyeon found her she'd be determined to have a new pet. But the bird sits just past the window, and she cries again — that horrible, human noise.

Donghyuck opens the backdoor.

She cries again.

_If I had a god on my side, would things be easier?_

There's a shovel propped up on the side of the house, and she's resting there. She stares at him.

"The fuck are you doing?" he huffs, reaching for her. She doesn't fly to him like she did before. She waits.

Donghyuck reaches for the shovel instead.

She flies, over Donghyuck's head, and rests on the gate — the open gate, that leads to the trees that still whisper.

Donghyuck has a horrible feeling. Or, not horrible, but heavy and terrifying, like he's on the brink of something.

 _If I saved a god, would that god save me?_ His hands clench around the handle of the shovel. He feels lost and found, all at once. The sky is so dark. His phone is back inside, on the kitchen table. His mom still has the car. Dohee and the twins are all sleeping, quiet.

But Donghyuck stands in the backyard, off-balance in the only home he's ever known.

 _The mountain caught me_ , Renjun had said, and Donghyuck never forgot.

Is Donghyuck caught, too? The shovel is heavy in his hands.

He walks forward. The moment he opens the gate, the bird flies up the path, into the abyss of the trees, and Donghyuck is shaking down to his bones. _Wouldn't it be funny?_ he thinks to himself, and that heavy feeling drops into the earth.

There should be more to it, he thinks, more reason beyond _wouldn't it be funny_ but there isn't any. There is no more reason, and Donghyuck takes measured steps into the woods in his shitty work shoes and his t-shirt, in the middle of the night, dragging his shovel behind, and he thinks nothing of it.

He walks through the woods in a haze. There is no path he's following. There is no sign he's looking for. There's no birds crying. If anything, the forest is silent, waiting, watching, and Donghyuck might even feel the eyes on the back of his neck if he paused and thought about it. The whole mountain is watching.

Donghyuck's legs ache and he doesn't notice. The air thins and he doesn't notice. Time passes, tick tick tick, and he doesn't notice. Caught, completely, and searching for something. _If I save him_ , Donghyuck thinks, over and over. _If I save him, he will save me._

It's selfish, rooted in personal desires, but there's no other thought in his head. This god isn't real — how can he feel compassion for a creature whose suffering is also not real? But Donghyuck is here anyway.

A fool, truly. A superstitious idiot.

Thunder rolls overhead, and the air smells like wet dirt and ozone. False sunlight, a moment of lightning. Donghyuck stares at the sky through the trees and sees more clouds than stars, no moon to speak of, and the encroaching storm looms darkly. His breathing is labored. His head is heavy. Is he dreaming?

 _What do you want?_ the trees whisper. _You won't find it if you don't know._.

Resolve. "I'm looking for a god," Donghyuck tells the open air. His voice is too loud. The shovel is held tightly in his hands. "I'll find him, no matter what." A non-believer with everything to lose.

A bird cries. It's the only sound, other than thunder and the rolling of the wind. Donghyuck wipes sweat out of his eyes. His t-shirt is sticking to his skin. Everything feels thick, unreal, like the clouds are bearing down.

No matter what.

Donghyuck wanders like a dead man following ghosts, but his heart is so set.

Forward, he thinks, pushing tree limbs aside. Forward forward forward, there's nothing behind. He doesn't look at this inexplicable faith that there is something ahead of him. His heart isn't strong enough to think about it clearly. It's better, isn't it, to search mindlessly without being frightened of the universe shifting for you.

Something does shift. The ground beneath his feet, maybe, or the light from up above. The thunder claps, lightning too close, rain falling. Donghyuck wonders why he's out here. He wonders where the path home is. The rain is cold, ice. He shivers.

He wants to go home.

There's nothing behind, or ahead. Just the storm above, and below...

Lightning crashes, and a hand reaches up out of the soil.

Donghyuck doesn't scream. He doesn't have the words, the breath, the energy. His heart is heaving. Shaking, everything, his body and hands and mind. "What the fuck?" he asks, and the trees don't answer, but perhaps they don't hear beyond the storm raging. Donghyuck drops to his knees.

With the rolling storm, the fingers twitch — alive. Surrounded by overgrowth, drenched in rain, but undeniably a hand reaching towards the sky, palm up. Buried to the wrist, no taller than the flowers shaking around it. Lightning, false sun, and Donghyuck sees grime on weathered skin.

_If I save a god._

Donghyuck stands, leaning heavily on his shovel, and allows himself a moment of hesitation before beginning his work. Metal in soil, mud on his knees, rain in his eyes; he digs.

He digs until the muscles in his arms melt and he can barely stand. The rain soaks him to the bone, drains him of everything, and the desire to go home is so strong. Dongseok must be frightened of the storm. The baby, oh the baby, he hopes his mother is there to soothe her.

The pile of dirt at his feet grows higher.

More than anything, Donghyuck wants to be saved, so he'll save. He wants to be happy, so he'll hold out his hands and loosen soil until the earth gives way, and he'll dig until he sees a face appear, hears this creature take the first breath of air in hundreds of years.

Donghyuck is crying, he thinks, but perhaps it's the rain.

The shovel is too heavy and his hands are raw. Donghyuck falls back and presses his fingers into the mud, ruined. He sees long arms and dark hair and a beautiful face, and then he sees beautiful eyes — opening, taking in the sight of it all. Donghyuck's heart stutters.

"Don't say anything," Donghyuck huffs. His voice is thick, shuddering. "Free yourself. I'm not strong enough." He's more puddle than human.

But clearly this creature cannot save himself, or he would have. The earth shifts around him. Donghyuck digs inch by inch, until his nails are destroyed and the pit is filling with water and mud and ruined foliage, and the body shifts free. _Free_ , for the first time in how long, and Donghyuck grips flesh and pulls until they're back on higher ground.

He holds his face up to the sky, rain dripping on his face and down his neck, and holds his palms upwards. They're red and raw and dirty, stinging. The shovel stands atop the pile of mud like a white flag.

The body, against all odds, still breathes.

It's a man, a beautiful man, naked, with wild hair matted with dirt and grass. He looks so young. His eyes are so old. He stares at Donghyuck. This god feels the same as the storm. There's something rolling under his skin, power and lightning and something far more fragile.

This god is real, and so is his suffering. Donghyuck weeps.

"Fuck," he heaves, and holds his face in his hands. He doesn't care if the mud smears — the rain will wash everything away. "What the fuck."

The creature that Donghyuck dug up is a man, an entire man buried in the dirt, and when Donghyuck looks up from his hands this god is staring at him like someone stares at a miracle. The lightning illuminates his face, and something there is so sharp and reverent that Donghyuck's voice catches in his throat.

That dirty, weathered hand reaches for his face.

It's a slow motion, wondering, but Donghyuck is too shaken to process it, to understand the intention or deny it or even to move. His breath is held. His world is barely turning.

The fingertips touch his face and it's electric. Should Donghyuck be terrified? He saved this god's life, but the man could destroy his in a moment and nothing would matter. He isn't terrified. He's exhausted. If the hand wraps around his throat, what would be left of him?

It doesn't wrap around his throat. Gently, it cups his jaw, so warm. The thumb wipes the mud off Donghyuck's cheek, or perhaps swipes at his tears, if it were possible to separate them from the rainwater. The god's eyes are too sharp.

His voice is cracked. "Are you real?" this creature whispers, searching.

And Donghyuck laughs, and thinks about it, and laughs some more. It bubbles up, because is this man asking _him?_ Asking Donghyuck if Donghyuck is real, when Donghyuck is a perfectly normal human and this god was buried alive and still breathing?

Donghyuck wraps his hand around the god's wrist. "I'm real," he says, through sobs he can't control. Still laughing. "Are you?"

A moment, a horribly long moment of looking and searching and waiting, and the god whispers, "I don't know," before he collapses.

His head slams into Donghyuck's shoulder and boy nearly falls backwards. The god is powerfully built, large and slick with the rain and hard to hold on to. Donghyuck holds him close, rests the brunt of the large body in his lap until the shaking of his hands stills. "What am I supposed to do now?" Donghyuck asks. He sniffs, but no one answers. The storm rages on.

No birds cry, no trees whisper. Just two creatures, breathing.

Donghyuck abandons the shovel. He has no idea where he is in the woods, how far he's climbed, but he pulls this man onto his shoulders and lets his feet drag against the earth. Donghyuck walks forward, always forward, towards home. His shoes slip on the path and he falls. His knees are bleeding. He prays he only falls once more, because he doesn't know how many times he can keep getting up.

Gods are more trouble than they're worth, Donghyuck thinks, but he can't make himself let go.

That damn bird cries, that too-human noise, and Donghyuck is a dumb piece of shit so he follows. "This is your fault," he says, head aching, when he sees her flying overhead. "You'd better get me out of it."

She laughs at him, Donghyuck thinks, and leads him down the mountain.

Donghyuck is still crying, his lungs are burning, and he's a mess in every way he can think of, but everything seems better when he sees his house in the distance. The back gate slams open and closed in the wind, unlatched, and the car in the driveway. Donghyuck wants his mom. He has no idea what time it is, but the carrying felt like it took hours, and the cuts on Donghyuck's knees are dried and swollen now. He drags the man through the gates, hands under his armpits.

He drops the god on the back porch and opens the door with fingers that slip around the lock, feeble and numb from the cold, from the effort.

His mother is inside. "Donghyuck," she says, and she isn't happy. She's sharp and shrill and there's worry lacing everything. She marches into the kitchen. Her hair is wild. She's still wearing her scrubs. "Lee Donghyuck, where the _fuck_ have you been?" She waves her phone in his face. "I've been calling you for _hours._ "

She takes a deep breath, and the moment, and when she finally looks at him and sees that he's broken the worry overcomes everything else. She holds out her hands. "Baby...what happened to you."

Donghyuck's an ugly crier. His eyes and nose are red, there's dirt and grass and blood on his clothes and skin. The sweat is stinging his cuts, but there's nothing for it. The rain water pours onto the floor. "I..." Wind rattles the windows.

Instead of explaining, he steps aside, and allows his mother to see the naked, dirty body laying on the porch, barely breathing.

When she gasps, she takes all the oxygen with her. Donghyuck can't catch his breath.

"What...happened to him." She takes a step forward, unsure, fingers twitching to take his pulse.

Donghyuck licks his lips and stares at her, fatigue settling into his bones. "The..." He closes his eyes. "The mountain ate him."

His mother has left rice on their windowsill for so long, has listened to the ravings of her own mother for decades, and still takes a moment to process his meaning. "Oh, honey."

Donghyuck laughs again, broken. Exhausted. "I lost the shovel."

When she wraps her arms around him, it's the best feeling. He's disgusting and damp and she's terrified and loves him. She loves him so much. There are a million notifications on his cell phone, he bets, and he'll never forgive himself for making her worry. "I don't care about the shovel," she says fiercely in his ear. "You're a good boy. I care about you and only you." She holds him tighter. "Fuck the shovel."

He laughs again.

Thunder rattles the walls.

She looks at the man on their porch. "You should...get him cleaned up." She rubs her face with a tired hand.

There isn't much Donghyuck can do now. He's done everything his body is capable of for the night, but he's long used to taking care of others, so he lets his mother help drag this old god into their living room and pulls him into the bathroom. Mud gets on the carpet, but hosing off a man in the backyard is too jarring a concept to consider.

The bathroom is familiar. Donghyuck does not look in the mirror because he's worried his own face will look alien to him. He feels different. Everything feels different. He feels a bit hollow, but that's familiar, too. Everything else is brittle and breaking.

"Come on," he tells the naked person on his floor, all hair and pale skin and mud and rain. The man doesn't respond, just breathes shallowly on the floor, and Donghyuck doesn't think he's capable of showering himself.

With a heavy sigh, Donghyuck takes off his socks and his jeans and leaves the t-shirt and boxers on. There's mud dried down on his arms and neck and legs and torso. He looks like he crawled out of the earth. They both look like that.

Donghyuck lets the water warm up. He sits on the toilet seat and watches this man, this god, and wonders what he's done. A pathetic creature, all told, and Donghyuck is here trying to...what? Incur favor? He doesn't even believe in this part of the universe. What can this man do that the rice can't?

Rice is easier to wash.

It's a struggle trying to collect up long limb and body, dragging the god over the edge of the shower and under the spray of hot water. It's worse, in some ways, than pulling him down the mountain, because he starts to move, and then everything gets worse.

Donghyuck tells himself the struggle doesn't matter, the small affronted noises this man makes don't matter, as long as the grime swirls down the drain. Once they're clean, nothing else will matter. Just get the both of them clean. He pulls this god in on top of himself and lets the water run through his long hair.

"Stop," the man mumbles, eyes squeezed shut. He struggles to sit up and then his skin rolls, and his hand strikes the porcelain wall.

For a moment, Donghyuck keeps telling himself it doesn't matter, but the crack in the wall says otherwise, as does the shower head falling into the muddy water. The sound it makes resonates through the bathroom, likely through the whole house, and the hides the sound that squeezes out of Donghyuck's chest. A tiny sob, just one. He's done with crying, but trying to keep it together gets harder and harder.

"Look what you did," he said, flat, and all at once whatever energy his new charge had sags out of him. This god falls back against Donghyuck's chest again, rubs his dirty face in Donghyuck's dirty t-shirt, and sleeps again. "I'm..." Huffs. "Fuck." Shaky.

He puts his hands in the god's hair and tries to work out tangles with his fingers. The spigot pours hot water mercilessly, but Donghyuck's energy is also nowhere to be found, washed down the drain.

Donghyuck wants to cry.

How come everything seems worse now than before?

 _Funny,_ he thinks to himself. _Wouldn't it be funny._

No matter the issue, Donghyuck's to-do list is the same. He wants to sleep forever, he wants to be clean, he wants to be warm, so the only solution is to problem solve. It doesn't matter that he doesn't have the money to fix the shower. It doesn't matter that he isn't sure what he's done.

He allows himself a moment, under the hot water with this god sprawled on top of him, and breathes deeply. Another moment, another breath, and then he decides that's all he'll allow himself.

Donghyuck stands up.

The man is more alert now than he was. At least he responds when Donghyuck pulls him to his feet. He rests his head on Donghyuck's shoulder, which is a hilarious image surely, considering the god is a giant and Donghyuck feels three feet tall.

"Mom," Donghyuck hisses. The twins are still sleeping, and the baby hasn't started crying yet. There's water trailing after them, murky brown. He'll clean it up in the morning. "Can we use your bathroom?"

She's still in the kitchen, sitting at the table surrounded by the mail and the wad of bills that Donghyuck left for her on the side table. She pokes her head around the corner, sees them standing in the hallway, drenched and on the brink of something horrible. "Of course, baby," she says, after a moment. "Just be careful about Dohee."

The main bedroom is down the hallway. Dohee sleeps calmly in her crib, and his mother's bed is made and unused. Donghyuck doesn't look at the time on the clock, but he feels the hour in his bones. He opens the door to the master bath and drops his baggage in the tub.

Hair sprawled everywhere, almost clean, face flushed with the heat from the water, this man is handsome — strikingly so, in a way that makes Donghyuck wants to look at him forever. But looking at a pretty face isn't a substitute for sleep, and Donghyuck doesn't want to think about anything. Nothing matters until the morning. Everything is shelved until the sun rises.

He turns on the water.

"One more time, okay?" he says, testing the water with his finger until it runs warm. "If you break the tub, I don't care anymore, got it?"

It's just like bathing his siblings, in a way, but with more limb and emotional turmoil and none of the crying. He takes an old washcloth and wipes skin until it's red instead of brown, and then he rinses it out and does it again. Slowly, inch by inch, he discovers muscle and flesh instead of mud and flower, and this man looks more human. Less like a creature, and more like something to worship.

The god's eyes flutter open, and he looks at Donghyuck without shame.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Donghyuck asks, but he is resolutely focused on his task. He will not look. He pulls grass from tangled brown hair. "You've only been here an hour and you're breaking my things."

This man doesn't respond. Donghyuck wonders if gods speak some other language, before he remembers their exchange on the mountain — _Are you real?_ Donghyuck doesn't feel real anymore. He wonders if this man is any more certain than he was in the storm.

Donghyuck sets the washcloth on the side of the tub and grabs the shampoo. It's a task. He can do tasks. He will tie himself together with tasks until he can find the pieces he's missing. He curses his hands, still shaking, and pours too much soap in the god's hair.

Truthfully, Donghyuck likes taking care of others. He feels useful. He likes digging his fingers into tense muscles until they relax. He likes combing his fingers through hair until it's clean and smooth and shining. He likes being necessary, for the moment.

"You'll fix my shower, right?" he says, under his breath. It's idle chatter, nothing that expects a reply. More for himself, than anything.

The god hums. The sound is deep. His eyes bore into the side of Donghyuck's face, a conscious weight.

Water soaks Donghyuck's t-shirt and he shivers.

A warm hand reaches up and grabs the washcloth. A large hand with dirty nails and gentle fingers. It lifts the washcloth up to Donghyuck's face again, and again Donghyuck allows it. He closes his eyes as the cool fabric rubs against his cheek. He rocks with it, reels for the hundredth time tonight, until the cloth is dropped back into the water.

The god hums again and rests his head against Donghyuck's thigh, eyes closed.

"You..." Donghyuck frowns. "You stupid man," he says, although that feels untrue.

Donghyuck decides he'll clean himself in the morning. He barely has the energy left to rinse the soap off this strange creature in his mother's old porcelain tub with the plastic red bucket they use on the children. It's funny, when Donghyuck thinks about it.

Clean, one of them — that's all that matters.

He has a brush in his room he can use, although the god's hair is much longer than his own. He's not sure his clothes will fit, but all Donghyuck wants to do is be wrapped up in blankets and sleep through the winter.

"Let's go, buddy," Donghyuck says, after the water is drained and he's dried this man up as best he can. He'll clean up the debris tomorrow, just like he'll clean up the dirty carpet and broken bathroom. Everything, now, can wait.

He overestimates his remaining strength, and the strength of his charge, and the man falls onto the bathroom floor with a resounding thunk. "Ah," the god says, almost an apology, mostly confusion, and the baby cries in the room beside.

Donghyuck looks at the ceiling and runs his hands through his hair. Another moment, another deep breath. "I'll—" He closes his eyes. What will he do? Just one moment. Just one more moment. He wrings the towel in his hands.

Quietly, the god pulls himself up onto his feet, steadying himself on the tub and wall and Donghyuck's shoulder until he towers, and he walks into the bedroom on steady feet.

It strikes Donghyuck then, that a naked stranger in their household, one with unknown power and motive and feeling, is going to hurt his baby sister. The panic that strikes through him is hot enough to burn, and he rips the door open hard enough he's surprised the hinges don't snap.

He steps into the room just in time to see this big stranger lift Dohee into his arms, cradling her like her own mother. "Don't," Donghyuck says with a scratchy voice. His heart is racing. "Don't do anything."

The god looks at him with drooping, glazed over eyes, but he doesn't put the baby down. He holds her closer to his chest, and he opens his mouth, and he sings.

It's only then that Donghyuck realizes the crying stopped before it really started.

Singing fills the room, soft and sweet, and there's something ancient about it. The language isn't one Donghyuck has heard before, delicate, and the melody lays on top of everything, floating, and the god looks at Dohee with love in his eyes. Her small hands wrap in his hair.

If there is one thing that brought Donghyuck close to breaking tonight, it's this.

He stands stiffly, watching this stranger and his sister, and wonders.

He stands there until the singing dies down to a hum, and this large creature gently untangles the small hand from his hair and lowers the baby back into her crib. He watches as the god straightens, a huge figure, and he watches as the god looks at him with those glazed over eyes.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Donghyuck admits into the ringing air, shaking with adrenaline and tired to the bone. He purses his mouth, holds himself around the middle. Shivers, still soaked.

The god reaches for him, strength gone, and Donghyuck trudges the both of them into his bedroom.

Clothes are something that Donghyuck doesn't want to mess with, but he trades his ruined things for something warm, and he tugs an oversized sweater over the stranger's head, and he prays that's enough. He looks at his small bed and the big man and decides that he himself will be sleeping on the couch, and prays his back won't break.

How strange, Donghyuck thinks, because this man looks almost childish sitting on his bed wearing his sweater, this huge man with sleepy eyes and wild hair and flushed cheeks, like someone waiting to be taken care of. Truly, Donghyuck has no idea what he's doing. The song the god sang still floats through the air, the ghost of tune, and Donghyuck stares and stares and stares like he'll figure something out just by dreaming.

Donghyuck sighs, scratching the back of his neck. "Sleep well."

The man continues to look at him, unmoving.

"Sleep," Donghyuck insists, pushing gently on a broad shoulder, but then there's a soft hold on his wrist. "Don't." The hold loosens. "Just sleep."

That hand moves to grab onto his sweatshirt, almost desperate — not almost, desperate point-blank. The grip is so tight Donghyuck sees white-knuckles. A small, soft sound, also desperate. Donghyuck covers the hand with his own. His heart hurts.

Gently, the god leans forward, head on Donghyuck stomach, hand clenched in his shirt.

In a strange way, the moment aches.

Donghyuck stares at the wall by his bed, eyes tracing the crack in the drywall, and decides he needs to fill his hollowness with something. It's like he dug all the dirt out of his insides instead of the ground, and this man is what he found, a horrible reflection. Lonely and gentle and blank and tired and dirty and _waiting._ How lonely that must be, to wait for years and years? Sleeping or waking or dreaming, but lonely, no matter what.

He smooths his hand over wild hair. "Sleep," he says again, and decides being held isn't the worst thing in the world.

The sun rises gently through the blinds, streaming through the room as Donghyuck lets himself be clung to, lets someone listen to his heartbeat because neither of them are sure that they're real, and presses his fingers to a god's pulse, for his own reassurance.

Everything can be shelved until the sun rises. Donghyuck sinks into his pillow and decides they can remain locked away a little longer, until his brain stops spinning and things are easier.

He rests, finally, and lets the hands remain tangled in his shirt, another problem to be solved in the morning.


	2. workin' on empty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Didn't Renjun seem different after?"
> 
> Jaemin's eyes are soft. "I...yeah." He squints, thoughtful. "He did."
> 
> The kitchen feels much smaller than usual, closing in. Donghyuck also feels smaller than usual. "Do I seem different?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM BACK BITCHES  
> I do not have an updating schedule! this is a very fast update please have very low expectations thank youuuu  
> thanks to everyone on the tl for putting up with my johnhyuck agenda

Donghyuck wakes up slowly, like sleep doesn't want to let him go. His eyes are swollen shut and his back and arms ache, dull. His head also aches, duller still, and he breathes deeply as he settles back into the waking world.

Breathing becomes living and living becomes remembering the night before, and with that comes the horrible rush of adrenalin that shoots through his body. His eyes snap open. His nerves fire off, finally aware.

His bed is empty and cold. He's alone.

Quietly, Donghyuck sits up. The sheets are tangled around his legs, and the sun streams in through the window, much higher than he's used to waking up to. Birds twitter outside. His phone is dead, sitting sadly on his side table, and without it he has no concept of time. Considering how late he'd gone to sleep that night, it's probably midday. His mother went to bed just as late, if not later. The kids need to be taken care of.

Donghyuck's brain feels swollen. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. Last night...

Was it real?

His mind tells him it can't be. Was he hallucinating the bird and the storm and the hand and the shovel? There's dirt under his nails. His pillow smells like someone else, like earth and rain. His ruined t-shirt is thrown on the floor, and there's a leaf in Donghyuck's hair that he pulls out with trembling fingers.

If last night wasn't real, then neither is he.

Absently, Donghyuck throws the blankets aside and braves the cold of his bedroom, puts his bare feet on the floor, stretches his back. He slept well, even if he's still exhausted.

There's a stranger missing from his bed, which Donghyuck won't say is completely novel, but he figures he'd better find him before the kids pounce.

Or get pounced, he supposes, although he thinks of the god holding the baby to his chest and wonders if this man would lift a finger against them. Donghyuck still isn't sure how he feels about anything. The night's sleep didn't help him process anything — it shelved things, sure, but now there's an actual person that Donghyuck has to confront about all sorts of things, and he isn't sure where to start.

The dark circles under his eyes are violently purple. He yawns so hard his jaw threatens to split, and then he shuffles into the main room, searching for a creature that shouldn't exist.

He finds his god in the kitchen, reading the newspaper.

It's a strange picture, incredibly jarring. This giant being, sitting politely at the kitchen table in front of the window. There's a mug in front of him on the table — _Sex is the best two minutes of my day!_ — half-empty, and an old fashioned paper is crinkled in his hands. His eyebrows are furrowed. His hair hangs wildly over his shoulder, slept on and dried funny. It doesn't stop him from being unreasonably handsome.

Donghyuck's heart clenches as he stands in the hallway, nervous beyond belief, unsure in his own house. If this god is real, then everything Donghyuck knows is less solid. He wonders what it's like to have the kind of power, to readjust the universe around your existence.

There's a moment where Donghyuck wonders if he should announce his presence — his mother won't care, but they do technically have company. Somehow the words get stuck in his throat. He hesitates, nearly shuffling his feet, but it doesn't matter. The god's head snaps up, like he'd felt Donghyuck staring, and his entire body seems to ripple with...something. He stands, the kitchen chair dragging against the tiles, and he looks at Donghyuck with a weird kind of intensity. Last night he'd been incoherent, dazed and confused; it's gone with the moon. He feels so much more present, intimidating, warm with his beauty but sharp and terrifying in most other aspects. Something about him feels ancient — Donghyuck supposes that makes sense — and the way his eyes stare at Donghyuck like he's trying to drink him in all at once makes Donghyuck shiver.

"Good morning, baby." Donghyuck's mother is standing at the sink, washing dishes. She's wearing her work clothes already — the clock on the microwave reads 12:07, and Donghyuck winces. She must have had to drive the twins to school already. It's closer to the end of their day than the beginning. She doesn't reprimand him for the late start. "I was about to wake you up."

Even washing the dishes, voice casual, she looks at the man in their kitchen who stares down her son with wild eyes.

The god is still as stone, breathless, and Donghyuck can only return the attention for a breath, just long enough to decide that it's weird. Donghyuck ducks his head. His hands grip the hem of his sweatshirt. "I'm sorry I slept in so late."

"You needed it, I think," says his mother.

It's no excuse. "So did you." Donghyuck makes his way over to the sink and pulls the dish towel from the oven handle. He pretends not to notice the way the stranger's eyes follow him, like a starving man watching food through the window. Not quite predatory, almost distant. Reverent maybe. Donghyuck takes a shuddering breath and busies himself with chores. "I should have gotten up to take Doyeon and Dongseok to daycare." He dries everything clean sitting on the drying rack, and his mother knows better than to tell him no. Their dark circles match.

The god is quiet. His presence is loud. Donghyuck ignores him.

"You're up now." She kisses his cheek. "Which is good, because I have to leave."

"I'll finish," Donghyuck says softly. Washing dishes is familiar, grounding. The area smells like lavender soap. His mother smells like medicine and sleep. "Go get ready."

His mother looks at the god subtly. "The baby is down for a nap, but she'll be up within the next half hour. There's a bottle in the fridge—"

"I know, I know." Donghyuck laughs, and pushes her towards her bedroom. He smacks her with the towel. "I'm a professional babysitter. I know."

"Well." She clears her throat. "Okay. I'll be out in a minute."

Once she walks down the hallways, it's quiet. All there is in the air is the clink of plates and cups and silverware; none of that accounts for the electricity Donghyuck feels in the silence.

Through his lashes, he sees the stranger watching him from the table, paper forgotten.

"It's rude to stare," Donghyuck says calmly, focusing on the soap and ceramic. He's sure he looks like a mess. Still, this is _his_ home; he refuses to be uncomfortable, mortal or not.

"Is it?" the god asks. He has a nice voice, a sweet tenor. It's unexpected, even though Donghyuck heard his voice the night before. Before, it was hazy. Now, in the daylight, somehow it's darker. "It's been a long time since I had something worth staring at."

It's almost cheeky. Donghyuck purses his lips and refuses to look over, because the weight of the watching is so heavy he wants to sink into the earth himself.

He scrubs the grime from underneath his fingernails and remembers all the stuff he needs to fix from last night. He makes a note to call someone about the shower. His mother cleaned up the mud from the carpet. He hopes she's left him the tub to take care of. The silence is deafening.

Silence is always louder when someone wants to break it.

"What is your name?" the god asks.

Donghyuck does look up this time, gives this man a once over before looking back at his dishes. "Donghyuck."

"Your mother calls you 'baby,'" the gods says, after a long moment.

"Please don't call me 'baby.'" Donghyuck looks at him flatly, setting the plate in his hands on the drying rack.

There's red high on the god's cheeks. "Do you like being called 'baby'?"

Donghyuck plunges his hands into the scalding water and lets it burn away the nerves on his skin. He's fizzing with it. It's frustrating. "It depends," he says flatly, and then pauses. "How long...how long were you...?"

"I'm not sure." The stranger traces his fingers over the date on the paper. "500 years, maybe. Or a bit more." He sounds unbearably sad. "I...should thank you for finding me."

This is the moment Donghyuck has been waiting for — being saved.

His words stick in his mouth. "I...didn't do it...to be gracious," he admits, even though it hurts him. Looking back, he's not sure why he did it, beyond being desperate enough to believe in something that couldn't exist.

"I know," says the man. The shadow he casts is so large, so at odds with everything else about this place that Donghyuck knows like the back of his hand. His chin is on his hand, and his voice sounds...complicated. "You did it for my favor."

Donghyuck looks at him, conflicted. His hands pause in the water, and he leans on the counter counting breaths. "I..."

The god takes a long sip of his coffee. "They all do it for my favor." He doesn't seem to mind. The blank expression on his face...frankly, it's unnerving.

"I see," Donghyuck replies. He huffs, pulling his hands free and wiping them on the towel before throwing it over his shoulder. "For what it's worth, I didn't have another choice." He surely did, but in the moment it felt like the only path.

Oddly, the god smiles at him. "Oh?" He laughs. His laugh lines are set deep in his skin. He looks friendly when he smiles, not intimidating at all. He leans into the hand supporting his cheek, a cute effect. "I'll give you my favor."

Donghyuck leans his hip on the counter, arms crossed over his chest. "Does your favor include fixing my shower?"

The god frowns. "Your...?"

Donghyuck just shakes his head and sighs again, stacking the plates to put into the cupboard.

Chair legs squeak on fake tile, and this huge man is standing at Donghyuck's side, tugging the towel gently off of his shoulder and drying the mountain of silver collected on the counter. The touch makes Donghyuck's skin prickle, bubbling under. The god is still only wearing one of Donghyuck's old sweaters, barely covered, and Donghyuck very purposefully does not look. Still, the semi-nudity doesn't bother the stranger any more in the light of day than it did the night before. Donghyuck himself is the only one concerned with it, and he stares resolutely out the kitchen window.

"Are you going to ask me my name?" the god questions eventually. Their shoulders brush. The kitchen is far too small.

Donghyuck counts grains of rice. "Do gods have names?"

"What else would people sing when they worship?" the god jokes, but it feels so heavy. The sun probably hits his face nicely. Donghyuck wonders if it's because the universe loves him enough to trick Donghyuck into saving him.

Donghyuck still does not ask. "I won't worship you." Mulish.

The god seems unbothered. "I would never ask that of you." A starving man. He brushes Donghyuck's arm again, but there's enough pressure that Donghyuck thinks it might be purposeful, beyond the close quarters. "But you can still call me John, if you ever want to sing."

"John," Donghyuck tests out, despite himself.

John looks at Donghyuck with that same sharpness.

"John, please fix my shower," Donghyuck says.

"What is a shower?" John asks.

Donghyuck thinks he should just call the plumber.

His mother walks out of the bedroom, holding a wiggling Dohee in her arms. "I need to head to the bus," she announces, barely wincing as Dohee tangles fingers in her hair. "I just changed her. She'll probably get hungry soon."

"The bus?" Donghyuck frowns. "Just take the car."

"I need you to pick up the twins from kindergarten. Dohee, baby, let go." Absently, she runs a hand over the wild tuft that is Dohee's hair. "I'll get back late tonight. Can you watch them?"

Donghyuck runs through his week. "I work at 4, but I can see if Jaemin can take them?"

John looks like he might say something.

Donghyuck reaches out for Dohee before he can open his mouth. "Jaemin's bored now that dance is done for the semester. I'm sure he can." Dohee settles into his arms like always, but her wide eyes stare at John without shame.

The god holds out a finger to her, and the smile he makes when she wraps her fingers around his is enough to melt a heart. Donghyuck decides to ignore it.

"You're going to be late if you keep fussing," he tells his mother, and she scrambles to grab her keys.

"There's leftovers in the fridge. The thank is full, I think. I'll pick Doyeon and Dongseok up from Jaemin's when I'm off—"

"Don't worry about it," Donghyuck says softly.

"Text me," she says one last time, on her way out the door. Her eyes pass over John, over this gangling creature standing near-naked in their kitchen. "If you need anything, just call. I'll answer."

"I know, Mom." Donghyuck holds Dohee close. "You always answer."

The shutting of the door is another echo, and then things are quiet again.

"I can help take care of the children," John says after a moment. Dohee hasn't released his finger, and Donghyuck stares at the connection between them, trying to decide whether it's a betrayal or not.

"You don't even know what a shower is," Donghyuck chides.

"This is true," John agrees. He smiles. "But children are the same no matter the era."

Dohee blows bubbles.

"You're so good," John tells her quietly.

Something in Donghyuck's heart breaks. He looks at John, and then at his bare feet on the tile floor. "You can hold her, if you want."

John just holds out his hands, and Donghyuck safely transfers his sister into the arms of a strange creature he dug out of the earth and finds he's oddly alright with it. Dohee stares up at him with wonder, and John looks back in kind, and Donghyuck holds himself around the middle.

"I'm sorry you were buried for so long," Donghyuck says quietly.

"Hmm?" John looks up at him, and there's something so gentle about his expression that Donghyuck feels on edge, alarmed and confused and disoriented. John hides half of his face behind Dohee, but Donghyuck knows he's smiling. "I'm here now. There are worse endings."

Donghyuck swallows thickly. "That's...good."

He isn't sure, yet, but he thinks it might be the truth. There are worse endings, that's for certain.

* * *

John tries to help Donghyuck clean the mud out of the bathtub, but Donghyuck doesn't really want him touching anything he could break, and they don't even go into Donghyuck's bathroom to assess the damage done to the wall. They don't have the money to fix it; he's already counting pennies.

Donghyuck's only revenge is resolutely not explaining to John what a shower is.

He's bone tired and his back aches from bending over, and he doesn't have time to wash himself the way he sorely needs to before he needs to pick up the babies. John has taken charge of Dohee while Donghyuck cleans, intently focused on feeding her through her babbles and burps. The image of this wild man with a burp cloth over his shoulder would be hilarious if there weren't so many other things running through Donghyuck's mind.

"She has a happy spirit," John says, bouncing her in his arms while Donghyuck rings the rags out under the faucet.

"She's a baby," Donghyuck says in reply. "We work very hard for her to be happy." He looks towards the clock and sighs. "Speaking of work..." He puts a cool hand on the sweat at the back of his neck.

John follows him obediently out of the master bath, not quite lost but very like a puppy, and continues distracting Dohee with the patience of someone who has dealt with children for a very long time. If only John could be so adept at dealing with other people — he has a horrible habit of staring. He presses down with his eyes in a way that makes Donghyuck want to evaporate. John listens to everything Donghyuck says without question, and it should feel odd to boss someone around who is quite capable of killing him. Another (very bossy) part of Donghyuck is grateful, because he doesn't want to release this god into the wild and see what havoc he might wreak, should he not listen to anyone.

Still, those eyes are very heavy.

Donghyuck pointedly turns his back as he changes into his work uniform. It's not clean but it's not terribly dirty, and it smells okay, and Donghyuck hasn't had the time to do laundry. Tomorrow is laundry day. He pulls it over his head and ruffles his own hair and calls it a day. He feels John watching him, almost calculating, but when he turns around those eyes are on the baby, unflinching.

"What do you do?" John asks. "How do you work to make yourself happy?"

It's funny. Donghyuck laughs, a bit bitter and not liking the sound. "I pull gods up like weeds and hope my debts will be paid."

This god has very beautiful eyes. They're deep, amber, and his hair is crazy but it suits him, in some way. The hair and the eyes and the beautiful face, and the tall figure, and this horrible intensity — it draws you in like a trap. Donghyuck looks at himself in the mirror, because it's easier.

John is still as a statue. "Will that make you happier?"

"It'll make things easier," Donghyuck says, steadfast. He reaches for his sister, and John is so gentle with the transfer of arms and Donghyuck's stomach churns. This is wrong. There is too much danger in this room for gentleness. He sighs. "I just...I would kill for things to be easier."

"You won't have to kill." John puts a hand on Dohee's head. "If I am here, I will kill for you."

It's foreboding, frightening, but Donghyuck laughs. Short, breathy, whatever. "Don't kill anyone unless I tell you to, huh?"

John does not laugh. "I will not." His free hand goes to Donghyuck's shoulder.

Donghyuck wonders if all gods can't sense a joke.

He doesn't particularly want to think about other gods. One god in the world feels fantastic enough.

There's something hesitant in the way John lingers as Donghyuck gets Dohee ready for the car. He hovers with the bag as Donghyuck throws bottles and diapers and a fresh change of clothes inside, and Donghyuck thinks about the god offering to help take care of the children. "I'm not leaving you alone in this house with my siblings," Donghyuck tells him, and it comes out unkind because Donghyuck isn't sure how he should be.

Something wicked flashes between them. John raises his eyebrow. "Do you think I'm dangerous?"

Donghyuck snatches the bag from John's hands, careful of jostling the baby on his hip. "I know you're dangerous. That's why I'm not leaving you alone with them."

It's strange how much height can be forgotten until this giant is looming over him. "You know that I'm dangerous?" John asks, heavy. "I shared your bed."

"Don't say it like that," Donghyuck hisses, flushing red. "That was your fault."

"You're in one piece, aren't you?" John asks, even. His hands are at his sides, casual, and his tone is soft, casual, and his eyes are sharp, terrifying. "You trust me in your bed but you think I'm dangerous."

"You are dangerous," Donghyuck insists. He doesn't care about this man being gentle. He doesn't care about the broken look on his face the night before — _are you real?_ — and he doesn't care that he definitely does care and should not care. "You're a god. I don't understand you. You..." He runs out of words. "Are you trying to convince me you're not dangerous? I won't believe you."

"I can be." John smiles, soft, at odds with his eyes. Donghyuck can't look away from his eyes. "But are you truly afraid of me?"

Donghyuck hangs the bag on his shoulder and holds Dohee tightly to his chest. "Would you hurt me?" he asks, eyes narrow.

"I would never." Solemn. Looming. "But if I wanted to, do you think you could stop me?"

Gentle, beyond all belief. Or, rather, something fierce held back by force of will — yielding, but only to itself, as is the natural order of things.

To itself, and to Donghyuck. "You won’t hurt me, so why are you asking?" Donghyuck answers, with more resolution than he truly feels. "I have your favor. Would you really ruin me?"

"Ruin you?" John's expression is hard to fathom. "Would you let me?"

Donghyuck stares at him. He does not understand this man, and that makes him dangerous, but Donghyuck doesn't have the time to think about it. He shakes his head absently. "I'm picking up the twins and leaving the babies with Jaemin while I go to work. Mom will be back late." He frowns. "Do you...eat?"

John laughs. "Yes."

"Well." Donghyuck swallows awkwardly. "There's food in the fridge." He's not sure if he should take the time to tackle the invention of the microwave in the past 500 years. "There's...more in the pantry." Dohee wants John to hold her, and Donghyuck has no guilt about telling her no, even if she wants it so badly, and even if John looks disappointed. "Come on, baby," he tells her, toeing on his shoes. "We're gonna go see your other brother, hmm? You like Jaemin's house, don't you?"

Dohee can't answer him, but he's not imagining the way John glowers.

"Who exactly is Jaemin?" the god questions.

Thunder rumbles in the distance. It's horribly dramatic, but Donghyuck looks out the window in alarm anyway. The sun is shining. He holds his tongue on the matter. "Jaemin is a close friend," Donghyuck says, prim. "I have to go. Don't..." _destroy anything_. "I'll see you tonight."

With the door shut behind him and his car keys in hand, Donghyuck can breathe more easily.

* * *

Picking Doyeon and Dongseok up from school is always a wild affair, and they're even more wild when they hear they're going to Jaemin's house, and then they're very quiet, because Donghyuck snaps at them for being too loud.

He takes a moment, hands gripping the wheel too hard. "I'm sorry, Doyeon," he says, thick. "I'm really stressed and took it out on you. I'm wrong."

Doyeon is very quiet in the backseat. "Mommy says you shouldn't yell."

"Mommy is right." Donghyuck smoothly pulls out of the parking lot, barely waving goodbye to the teacher manning pickup. "I'm sorry I yelled. I like it when you guys are happy to see me." His head aches.

There's something tense in the air, and the Dongseok says, "can we listen to the shark song?" and everything smooths out.

Donghyuck wishes other things were so easy.

Jaemin opens his door and immediately says, "What happened?"

Donghyuck just hands him the baby bag. "I can't...I have to go." It's too much to explain, and it's written all over his face. Awful.

"When your shift is done, we're talking," Jaemin says, steady. He punches Donghyuck lightly on the shoulder. "Make lots of money to support my lavish lifestyle, okay?" He flutters his eyelashes and Donghyuck laughs on his way back to his car, pulling out of the house that Jaemin's parents pay for so he can live closer to the university they pay for.

Jaemin always knows what to say.

Work is brutal, but it's brutal in a manageable way, because Donghyuck goes in knowing that it's going to destroy him. He's dead on his feet, and food service has never been glamorous, even if the restaurant is expensive and the tips are good.

"You look like shit," Nayeon says. She's one of Donghyuck's favorite servers, and she's cute so the tips she shares with her food runners are always excellent. She pets his hair in a way she knows he likes. "Take it easy, okay?"

"It's a short shift," Donghyuck tells her placatingly.

Nayeon frowns.

So is Donghyuck's wallet. "It's for the best," he admits, after a moment, and then Seungyeon's tickets starts coming in and Donghyuck has work to do.

He's got a thick skin, and the customers can probably tell he's on the verge of exhaustion, so he's only yelled at once about a server ringing in an order wrong and Donghyuck is able to smile the entire time. He laughs when he tells the chef. It's not the worst day. The dinner rush is not the busiest, the tips are not the best, but Donghyuck survives it. A five hours shift, peanuts.

Still, everyone can tell he's distracted. He drops a bowl on the kitchen floor and stands there for an entire minute before he starts cleaning it up. The steward is nice enough to help, but everyone treats him like a time bomb for the rest of the night.

"Do you need someone to run bars tomorrow?" Donghyuck asks, as he's packing his stuff up. A lot of the people working here are under 21, and manning the bar is the easiest way to pick up extra hours, but he knows the manager is going to say no as soon as he asks.

"Henry and Seolhyun are working tomorrow," Eunbi says, apologetic — Henry and Seolhyun never call out. It'd be better luck if it was Vernon, or maybe the new girl who is always sick. "The mid is...Siwon, I think?" She smiles, soft. "I'll call if I need you, though."

"It's your day off, right?" Seungyeon is walking past to ring her receipts. "You should take the day." It's a subtle way to tell him what Nayeon said outright earlier — he looks like shit.

Donghyuck winces. "Sorry. I've got a lot going on." He's been running through the night before over and over again. Today has been so mundane, it's surreal in the aftermath.

He feels like he left something behind on the mountain, beyond the shovel, and brought back something bigger, beyond the body, and now he's trying to return to himself and doesn't fit.

"It's late," Nayeon tells him, when he's lingering in the doorway. There's something on his shirt that smells fishy, and Nayeon wipes stray sugar off his sleeve. "You've got the babies to get back to, right?"

"Yeah." Donghyuck doesn't want to drive all the way to Jaemin's, wake them up and get them in the car and drive all the way home, but he wants to see them at the same time. He just wants to sink into bed more. "I should go."

"Do you work on Thursday?" she asks.

"Probably." Donghyuck works almost everyday, somewhere.

"I'll see you then." Nayeon waves him goodbye. "Take care of yourself. You deserve it."

When he sinks into the front seat of his car, everything still feels fake, like he's barely alive, and the rumble of the engine and the chirping of the transmission reminds him he doesn't have time to muddle through things.

_I'm on my way_ , Donghyuck texts Jaemin, putting on his seatbelt and settling his bones into the stained upholstery.

_have u eaten???_ is the quick reply.

Donghyuck laughs as he pulls out of the parking lot.

Jaemin is waiting with homemade soup when Donghyuck pulls into his driveway. The babies are sleeping peacefully on Jaemin's bed, and the guy that sleeps on Jaemin's couch is laying with Dohee asleep on his shoulder and a game controller in his hands. "Sup," Mark says absently, killing someone on Overwatch and pretending like he did it on purpose. Donghyuck taught Mark how to play Overwatch, so he's not fooling anyone.

"I'm dying," Donghyuck replies, flopping into the lounge chair dramatically. "The usual."

"Let's get you fed before you wake up the gremlins." Jaemin says it fondly. There are children's toys scattered around the carpet. Some of them Donghyuck brought from their house today, some were left here other days, some Jaemin bought himself. Jaemin pours Donghyuck dinner and Donghyuck sinks into plush velvet to the sounds of Soldier 76 having a hard time.

Mark gives him a weird look as he starts eating, but Donghyuck has been getting weird looks all day. "Do you like my eye bags?" Donghyuck asks. "They're designer."

Mark laughs, because that's Mark's response to literally everything. "Dude." He shakes his head, stretching his hands and managing not to wake the baby. "You look wrecked."

Donghyuck hums, spooning soup into his mouth. There's too much salt, but Jaemin puts too much salt in everything, and it's good besides. He's warm from the inside. "Feel wrecked."

Jaemin walks over and sits on the arm of the chair, one leg tucked underneath himself. The other end of the couch Mark isn't occupying is covered in laundry that needs to be folded and the coffee table is covered in old cups. He looks at Donghyuck quietly. "What happened?" An echo.

"It's..." Donghyuck looks at Mark and bites his lip, and Jaemin doesn't hesitate to pull Donghyuck up and into the kitchen. Donghyuck follows dutifully behind and collapses into the kitchen chair with a creak. The creak is in his bones and also in the chair that he found on the side of the road and gifted Jaemin for White Elephant.

"Spill." Jaemin sits on the kitchen table because he can't sit in a chair for any reason, but his face is set and serious and Donghyuck stirs the soup around uselessly, suddenly less hungry than before. Jaemin softens. "Please."

Where does Donghyuck even start? "I..." He clears his throat awkwardly, clinking his spoon on chipped ceramic. Back to the beginning. "Do you remember Renjun from middle school?"

Jaemin laughs, almost startled. "The Renjun that we literally got dinner with like three days ago? That Renjun?" He shakes his head. "You're really asking me like I forgot. Incredible."

"No, like." Donghyuck laughs, but it gets stuck in his throat. "Do you remember 'Renjun from middle school?'"

There's a long moment of staring before Donghyuck sees the gears grind to a halt as the bearing rolls into place. "Oh, Hyuck. You mean the terrifying four days one of our class members was probably dead?" He clicks his tongue. "I remember."

Donghyuck sets the bowl down on the table and wipes his sweaty hands on his trousers. "Didn't he seem different after?"

Jaemin's eyes are soft. "I...yeah." He squints, thoughtful. "He did."

The kitchen feels much smaller than usual, closing in. Donghyuck also feels smaller than usual. "Do I seem different?"

It feels like something has shifted irrevocably. Donghyuck is trying to decide whether he should be mourning someone who no longer exists.

Jaemin stares at Donghyuck and it's different than with John. This is familiar. There's weight, but Donghyuck has long learned how to handle it, shouldering the guilt of someone else's concern. Donghyuck huffs, slumping down in his chair until it creaks again and his neck is at an unnatural angle.

"I don't know what happened." Donghyuck covers his face. "It's like..." _a dream._ A part of Donghyuck is waiting for the bird call to wake him up again, and find he's been daydreaming in front of his window, holding rice in his hands.

Quietly, Jaemin pulls Donghyuck's hand away from his face and inspects his nails, brutalized from digging into solid ground and pulling up something with roots. He doesn't say anything, just purses his mouth and holds Donghyuck's hand in his lap. "What did you find?"

Donghyuck counts the tiles on the ceiling. "God."

Jaemin frowns.

"Do you remember my grandma?" Donghyuck asks. "And how she...and the mountain...and Renjun was looking for something he never found?"

It goes without saying that Donghyuck found it. He's sitting here, shaken, different, dying, and when he looks up into Jaemin's face he sees something reflected there he doesn't like.

"Gods aren't real," Jaemin says gently, running his thumb over the back of Donghyuck's hand. "Hyuck, it was just a bad dream."

"Tell the man in my house he's a bad dream." Donghyuck tilts sideways until his head is resting on Jaemin's thigh. "Tell the dirt under my nails and the ruined shower and the body I pulled out of the ground, the one singing my sister to sleep, that he's not real."

Jaemin is strung tight like a wire, his free hand in Donghyuck's hair, and Donghyuck knows his best friend well enough that he could draw the expression that's likely on his face from memory.

"I don't know what to do," Donghyuck whispers.

"You'll figure it out," Jaemin says, still stiff, because if Donghyuck hasn't processed what happened then Jaemin will go days before he understands the weight of it. "You'll be okay. You're always okay, eventually."

Jaemin knows Donghyuck better than anyone, sparing his mother. Jaemin has been at Donghyuck's side since they were children. Jaemin always has the answers, or the words, or the resources. Donghyuck loves him for that. He isn't sure what to do when they're both at a loss.

But Jaemin slinks down off the table and squats down to face Donghyuck and cups Donghyuck's neck like he used to, when they were closer than friends, and stares into Donghyuck's eyes like there's a puzzle there to solve, or at least something more complicated than grief — even if it's inexplicable.

"A god, huh?" Jaemin asks.

Donghyuck laughs. "I wish it wasn't real." It sounds hollow. Donghyuck doesn't feel hollow. He's overflowing.

Jaemin leans their foreheads together, soft, and it's so familiar that Donghyuck wants to weep, because nothing is familiar. This is comfortable, necessary, desperately desired.

"You'll be okay," Jaemin says again. "There are people that need you, and people that will help you, no matter what."

There are so few truths in the world. Donghyuck is learning that more every day.

"You're right." Donghyuck's breathing is shallow.

The baby cries in the other room, and Jaemin grins before pulling away. "Let's get the kids home, and then you can sleep."

Donghyuck very purposefully does not think about the man in his bed. "Sleep sounds nice."

Dongseok is easier to wake up than Doyeon, so he holds Donghyuck's hand while Doyeon hangs firefighter style over Donghyuck's shoulder, and Mark hands Dohee off to Jaemin and keeps playing games after a mild goodbye.

"Be careful," Jaemin says, hands in pockets, through the window of Donghyuck's clunker. He's at ease now, familiar with this part of the routine, and he smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes, but that's not out of the norm, either. "If you need me, call."

"I will." Donghyuck hopes he won't need to call.

It's a long drive back home. Doyeon barely woke up, and Dongseok is sleepy enough that a few minutes of Donghyuck's careful lullabies send him sweetly after his sister. Dohee babbles quietly in her carseat. She throws her shoe at Doyeon. Doyeon doesn't wake up enough to be offended.

Donghyuck continues singing softly, even after the car is pin-drop quiet. If he could sing himself to sleep, he would.

His mother isn't coming home until later. The porch light is on. The gravel crunches under the tires, and Donghyuck sits in the car while it runs for long enough to see the door creak open.

John stands in the doorway, still wearing Donghyuck's sweater, his hair tied back away from his face, and the image covers Donghyuck in goosebumps. "I don't know how to deal with you," he whispers to the windshield.

There's nothing hesitant about the way the god walks out onto Donghyuck's porch, but he waits there, like he's asking for permission to come forward. Donghyuck won't give it to him. With a heavy heart, Donghyuck turns off the car and slides out of the seat.

John comes down the steps while Donghyuck wrestles Dohee out of her car seat. "I can help," he says, with that same even tone from earlier. Donghyuck hates it.

"No," is the terse reply, even as his fingers fumble and his brain fizzles into nothing.

There's a gentle hand on his back, and Donghyuck halts like a switch is flipped. There's warmth at his back, that carefully held presence. "Let me help you," John says, very soft. More goosebumps, and a sound defeat.

The god does not wait for permission now. He stares at the seatbelts, and Donghyuck quietly pops the latches before he straightens with Dohee in his arms.

"This is a car?" John asks, pushing the seatbelt out of the way and pulling Dongseok into his arms with more grace than Donghyuck could probably manage. Dongseok adjusts on John's shoulder, yawning, and John is already pulling Doyeon out with the other arm. She tugs on his shirt immediately. It's the sweetest picture.

A bad dream.

"Yes." Donghyuck isn't sure how John can carry both of them so casually. He grabs the baby bag. "This is a car."

"It's like a carriage?" John asks. "Is it the same as a bus?"

Has this strange creature been thinking about such inane questions since Donghyuck left? "A bus is a big carriage, pulling a lot of people." He makes his way slowly up the porch steps, holding the door open for John. "You pay a fee and it takes you on set routes. The car is more expensive but takes you anywhere."

"How does it run?"

"Uh." Donghyuck isn't sure how to explain it. He's not sure what the frame of reference was, 500 years ago. "I don't know."

They get the children ready for bed with barely another word, but John sings that sweet melody under his breath and they fall into him without hesitation. Is there magic in it? Donghyuck is frightened to ask.

John continues humming lullabies, even as Donghyuck closes the twin's door, even as Dohee is curled up in her crib. It's a different song than what Donghyuck sang to himself in the car, holds in the air a different way, but it seeps into Donghyuck's bones until Donghyuck melts. He leans against the door, exhausted.

"You look tired," John says.

"I'm always tired," Donghyuck admits.

John is not looking at Donghyuck the way he has been, slightly off center, and it strikes Donghyuck off-balance. "I will help you, if you let me," after a long moment.

Funny, considering Donghyuck saved him for the helping.

"I'll let you," Donghyuck huffs. "Why wouldn't I?" They need it. They need the help. Donghyuck is drowning and has forgotten how to swim. He stares at the stain on the carpet.

That warm body steps closer, until Donghyuck sees bare feet in front of him. He braces himself, but when he looks up his jaw is set, like he's expecting a challenge — like he's expecting to fight and win.

A challenge is not what he finds.

John is hovering. He hovers so much, and Donghyuck wonders if it's due to uncertainty or something else, but his hand rises and hangs in the air between them. Permission, but John does not wait for it. Donghyuck does not stop him.

The hand slides on the side of Donghyuck's neck — familiar, because Jaemin did the same not an hour ago. But it's a different hand, and the purpose also feels different. It's not familiar. It's strange, and alarming enough that Donghyuck feels his heart thump thump thump, but he continues leaning against the door, stuck. The thumb sits at his pulse point, and the hand wraps around the back of his neck, secure.

Terrifying.

Heavy eyes, heavy bones, looming. John is not humming anymore, but Donghyuck can still hear it.

Slowly, waiting, John tilts his head forward, a mirror of something else. Purposeful.

It feels different.

Donghyuck makes a quiet sound when their foreheads touch, and it might be a sob, or something like a gasp of disbelief, or fear. His fist wraps in the sweater John is wearing, also a mirror. It's been such a long day. Donghyuck is so tired. So lost.

There's some strange comfort in this, isn't there? In the touch of this man that Donghyuck doesn't understand. But his stomach is churning and his heart is beating too hard and he's not hollow, he's full and brimming over, and making a mess of things.

"Help," he says, small. "Please."

John lingers a moment longer, and when he pulls away it's like Donghyuck catches a breath for the first time all day, like he's been hung on a tether and has suddenly been dropped to the floor.

"Alright," says his god.


	3. the rumble where you live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I need to see everything," the god says eventually. "This is a new world. How can I help you from here?"
> 
> _Help, please._
> 
> Donghyuck swallows something sour. "Alright. We can go into town."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter five is going so so so slow i'm sorry I still haven't finished but I got impatient  
> honestly i'm overwhelmed by the good feedback i've gotten (please keep it coming i'm needy)
> 
> thanks to ellie for reading over it and all the people supporting me on the tl! this one's for you

There is no extra body in Donghyuck's bed that night. He's not sure where the god goes while Donghyuck sleeps, but he can sprawl out as much as he wants, and there's no warmth on his sheets in the morning, no memories of another person.

That's Donghyuck's first thought, come sunrise — _where did he go?_.

He'd disappeared after their conversation, gone down the hallway into the living room and not returned before Donghyuck's head hit the pillow and exhaustion sunk him into sleep. Eyes shut, Donghyuck was gone, and John didn't return.

Did John just wander the house all night? Did he sleep on the couch like when one of Donghyuck's friends comes over or when his mother falls asleep watching television? Donghyuck's hands trail over the cold space beside him and he figures, truly, it isn't his business.

(That is, of course, silly, because a strange creature roaming his house unattended should be alarming, but it isn't, so it's fine.)

Donghyuck stumbles out of the bedroom, hungry, scratching his stomach. It's an earlier start today, a good sign that he's catching up on rest, even though his back aches and his attention frazzles too easily these days. The twins' door is open. There are toys sprawled on the floor already.

He laughs. It seems he didn't wake up early enough.

A kid's show is playing on the television. Donghyuck recognizes it by the main character's laugh — annoying, but Donghyuck is hardly the target audience — and when he turns the corner he expects to see Dongseok watching quietly with his cereal while his mother folds laundry. It's a familiar morning scene, a noisy Doyeon and a soft Dongseok and a babbling Dohee.

In reality, it's John folding the laundry, and Doyeon is perched in his lap trying to get in the way of things.

"But I don't _like_ blueberries," she's saying, aggressively tugging at John's shirt. "They're round and weird and make the muffin all soggy."

"But your mother made them for you," John replies evenly. He has a fitted sheet sprawled out on the floor beside him that he seems to have given up on, and is dutifully folding all the towels in thirds while Dongseok styles the god’s hair with chubby fingers.

Doyeon sniffs. "Yeah, out of a _bag._ "

In the kitchen, their mother is leaning against the island with a coffee cup in her hand and a plate of muffins on the counter beside her. She raises her eyebrows. "Maybe if Hyuckie was awake earlier, he could have made some from scratch."

That's hilarious, because when Donghyuck bakes for breakfast he makes it the night before and still sleeps in until nine or ten, but it's also terrifying, because it pulls the focus towards his entrance.

Donghyuck ignores the way John flicks his eyes over, consciously does not move his head to keep his hair from wrenching out of Dongseok's tiny hands. The fluffy towel in his lap is crumpled under Doyeon's squirming. He looks like a jungle gym, but his eyes are so...

Well, it doesn't matter, because Donghyuck is ignoring it.

"I like it just fine from the bag," Donghyuck tells his mother, walking over. He scratches his stomach under his shirt and kisses his mother on the cheek. The muffins are sitting on the rack and he plucks one up, smearing purple-blue on his fingers. He likes the chocolate chip ones more, but blueberry is fine. "Good morning," he tells her, licking fruit off his thumb.

"Good morning," says John, quite loud, from the living room floor.

Donghyuck looks over his shoulder, then back at his mother, and she has such a wry look on her face. "Good morning," he says to John, before biting into the muffin, vicious.

His mother raises an eyebrow. Donghyuck refuses to play nice until the ache in his bones is settled and the crack in their drywall is repaired.

"I was wondering if you had any plans today," the god says from the living room floor, surrounded by linens and children. Dohee bounces and Dongseok braids and Doyeon braces herself on John's shoulders and shakes, like maybe he'll make her muffins without blueberries.

Donghyuck could lie. He could make plans with Jaemin. He could say he needs to sleep for a million years. He could ignore the question completely. Instead he says, "no, I don't have any plans," through a full mouth.

John's expression is careful, but he swallows thickly for a moment before saying, "could we go into town?"

"Town?" Donghyuck wipes the corners of his mouth. "Like...the city? Into the city."

"Yes." John allows Dongseok to pin the braid he's made in a loop on the top of his head, and he looks silly even if his expression is solemn. "I need to see something."

Honestly, Donghyuck was hoping he could hide his new cryptid in his house for the rest of eternity, but he supposes that's unrealistic. "Everything has changed since you started sleeping. What could you possibly need to see?"

"Hyuck," his mother says, sharp.

It's quiet, and John seems carefully collected, but Donghyuck didn't miss the shock of something that flashed across the god's face — pain, maybe, at the brutal reminder. "I need to see everything," the god says eventually. "This is a new world. How can I help you from here?"

_Help, please._

Donghyuck swallows something sour. "Alright." He rubs crumbs off his fingers into the sink. "We can go into town."

Mother doesn't work today, and Donghyuck wants to leave her the car so they can go to the grocery store, but the town is not a long drive away, and the bus stop is only a mildly long walk. He licks his fingers, checks the hour, makes plans.

The first order of business is getting John clothes that aren't too small for him, and also getting him into a pair of pants. Donghyuck's mother recognizes this before either of them, and says, "I'll go get some of your father's things."

Donghyuck leans on the counter, chewing the inside of his cheek. "We can just buy him clothes in the city."

She levels a look at him, brutal. "You want him to take public transport wearing your boxers and nothing else?"

Donghyuck snorts, despite himself. "No."

Doyeon wails in John's lap, tugging on his hair. "Don't leave!" she screams. "It's boring with just Mommy, and Baby just cries."

Dohee blows bubbles.

Donghyuck walks over, pulls Doyeon up from the human jungle gym and sets her on his hip. "She's boring? She cooks and cleans and plays with you and she's _boring?_ " He flips Doyeon upside down, laughs maniacally at her squeals. "She's so boring! Mommy is boring!" He swings her back and forth, gentle. "Doyeonnie wants to stay with Johnny and Hyuckie and never eat Mommy's food again!"

"Hyuckie can cook!" Doyeon giggles, face getting red from hanging upside down, but the sheer joy on her face makes Donghyuck give her any extra swing just for fun.

"Hyuckie will never cook for Doyeonnie ever again," he answers, somber. "Doyeon thinks it's boring. I can't be boring!"

"It's not boring! It's not boring!" Doyeon's hair hits Donghyuck in the face when he flips her back up into his arms. She's getting too big to throw around, and Donghyuck will miss it when he can't anymore.

"Tell Mommy she isn't boring!" Donghyuck chastises, voice is sweetened to a coo, the way he knows annoys his mother but always makes the twins laugh. "Mommy works hard and loves you so much!"

"Mommy isn't boring," Doyeon says, grinning and breathless, not chastised at all. "But Johnny should stay! He's big and I like him!"

"John is nice," says Dongseok passionlessly, very focused on jabbing Doyeon's glitter clips into the mass of John's hair. "Hyuck doesn't let me braid his hair."

"Hyuck doesn't have enough hair," Donghyuck corrects, shaking his hair out like a dog before putting Doyeon back down on the floor. "But John and I are going to be coming back, so you can continue liking him later, okay?"

John is watching this happen quietly, hands idly folding linen, and he grins at Doyeon when she crawls back to him. When he looks up at Donghyuck, his eyes are wide and open, and it's a little startling, because Donghyuck thinks gods should close more doors.

Donghyuck looks at the stains on the carpet and says, "let's go get ready so we can come back."

"Alright," John says, and pulls Dongseok over his shoulder as he stands, fireman carry, before setting the little boy back down on the couch with a grin on his face. "Lead me."

When Donghyuck's father left, he left quickly, and he left a lot behind. Clothing, children, questions, and all sorts of problems, but he was about as tall as this god, and so at least he was good for something. Donghyuck doesn't make his mother pull the carefully packed clothes out of her closet. He heaves the bin down with a huff and opens the lid and smells old cologne and musk and, after a moment, looks at this god. "You can look through it for something that fits."

Donghyuck steps out while John looks through the clothes. He sits on his mother's bed, looking at the crib in the corner. Dohee's blanket is draped over the edge. It'll be time for her nap soon.

John walks out not much later wearing too-short dress pants and no shirt. "They are...not long enough," he says, and it might be awkward except he clearly finds it funny. "Better than yours."

"Not all of us are giants," Donghyuck says, but he's staring at John's chest, out in the open. The large swath of his ankle that's visible is funny enough, but John is much larger than he looks in Donghyuck's old sweaters. He’s much bigger in general now than he was before. He’s brighter, filling out now that he’s not imprisoned in the dirt. There's a large scar from the tip of his shoulder through one pectoral that Donghyuck hadn't noticed before, the spidery kind people get when they're electrocuted. Donghyuck's eyes follow the pattern. "Couldn't find a shirt?"

"I like yours better," the god says idly, the corners of his mouth curling. He still has those clips in his hair, a misshapen braid coiled on the top of his head. It shouldn't be devastating. It isn't. Donghyuck isn't devastated. His old sweater hangs from John's finger tips.

"Okay." Donghyuck stands up, bones creaking, and walks into the hallway. "Let's find you one, then."

John has already put the bin back on the shelf where no one can see. It's easier that way.

They find another oversized hoodie for John, and it fits much more snug on him than it usually does on Donghyuck. They have to use his dad's shoes, old dress shoes with fraying laces, and Donghyuck tips a handful of quarters into his own pocket, settled next to his bus card.

"Do I look human?" John asks, arms out, and he does. He looks like a ridiculous mess of a human, but Donghyuck has seen worse. Still.

"Come here." Donghyuck holds out his arms, and when John gets close he sits the god on his bed and digs his fingers into the tangles of John's hair.

The clips come out, one by one, hopelessly tangled, and John barely reacts even when Donghyuck tugs at knots. Donghyuck unpins the braid with careful focus. It's wild, messy, and frizzy from the untrained hands of a six-year-old, but John just hums as Donghyuck rakes his fingers through.

"It's very long," John acknowledges, staring at the mirror he's facing — at Donghyuck's face in the mirror, if Donghyuck were to look up and take notice.

"Yeah." And very thick, as Donghyuck collects it in his hands with the hair tie hanging from his teeth.

"Your hair is not long." John pauses, thinking. "Is that the style these days? To keep it quite short?"

"Do whatever you want," Donghyuck answers. He likes the long hair, as he ties it up out of John's face. He likes that it makes John look like something from the mountain. It rings true, more true than the hoodie or the brogues.

John just hums again.

Donghyuck has to pry Doyeon from John's legs whenever they gather at the front door, even as he's toeing on his shoes. John is not helpful, giggling back at her, encouraging her to be clingy even as Donghyuck is huffing that she can't come along because they'll be gone for some time. "Go help Mom put Baby to sleep, hmm? You can sing her a lullaby. I know you've been practicing."

It's not easy to appease her, but she leaves eventually, and Donghyuck pushes John bodily out the door before she can change her mind.

The walk to the bus stop is long and not very intuitive, and John follows dutifully, hands in his pockets. The few people they pass stare at this huge, lumbering man, and Donghyuck doesn't blame them. He's handsome and dressed like a disaster. To be frank, it's very distracting.

Donghyuck waves at the old woman who walked her three cats down the forest path every day and she says, "is that your boyfriend?"

"Granny," Donghyuck answers, holding Cat #2 in his arms like a baby. "Not every boy is my boyfriend."

She sniffs, disappointed, and John scratches the cat's head with gentle fingers. "A shame."

"She wants you to be happy," John says, once she's out of sight and they've continued headed towards the bus.

She's a nice lady," Donghyuck says, because it's the truth. Whenever Donghyuck became open about liking men there were mixed reactions, but Granny Lim had just tried to set him up with her grandson and that was that.

(He had in fact gone out with her grandson a handful of times and gotten lots of free meals out of it, but little else. He won't say he wasn't disappointed; he really loves Granny Lim.)

There are a good handful of people waiting at the bus stop, a mixture of people that lessens the distraction that is John in his bizarre outfit. Someone is asleep on the bench. A woman waits with a small dog poking its head out of her purse. Several college students are sitting on the pavement with their phones in hand.

A spot on one of the benches is open, and Donghyuck takes it without hesitation, collapsing onto the chipped paint and aluminum. The lady on his left subtly moves to the side to make room for him, but it's relatively quiet. The rush of the morning commute is long over, and what remains are the stragglers.

John hovers a head over everyone else, hulking, but it doesn't really bother him. He squints at the map posted, cracked and color-coded. "This is...a bus?"

Donghyuck leans his head back on the hard metal of the bench. "No." He points across the street at the other stop, where a large white mammoth is parked to pick up the south line. "That's the bus." He sighs. "This is where the bus stops so we can get on." Donghyuck's pocket is heavy with quarters. He looks up at John.

The god looks much bigger like this, from below, trying to understand the scrambled lines. The muscles of his jaw work as he thinks, eyes laser-focused on the map. Donghyuck counts the pattern absently. He only realizes he's keeping track when John's eyes narrow in on his face. "What if they need to go somewhere not on the map?"

"Some people have to take multiple busses to get where they need to go." This one is going to take them directly into the city, but it'll be a few stops before they get there. "Or you walk the rest of the way."

John nods, eyebrows raised as he looks at the map with renewed understanding.

Something about this moment is so silly. Donghyuck explains public transportation to something who could open the clouds with a snap of his fingers. He laughs, despite himself. A god on the bus, among the tiny humans. A god, wearing Donghyuck's clothes. Silly.

"Sorry," he says, hand covering his mouth once the laughter has died down and John is staring at him expectantly. "There's something really funny...a god asking for help with the bus." Donghyuck wipes his smile away with the back of his hand.

John doesn't seem offended. "Why is it funny?" He watches the expression on Donghyuck's face very carefully, like he's looking for the one Donghyuck has already put away.

Donghyuck licks his lips. "Shouldn't you be riding a golden carriage?"

"A golden carriage?" John laughs. "What a waste of gold. This works fine." He tucks his hands in the pockets of Donghyuck's dad's pants. That's also a jarring image.

He doesn't look like a god. Donghyuck doesn't know what he thinks a god should look like, but John looks more at home here than he should, not otherworldly, very present. Maybe that's a good thing. Donghyuck pictures the muddy cryptid he pulled out of the earth tipping quarters down the funnel. Absurd.

That's not what this looks like. John looks like someone Donghyuck might have run into during lecture — dress pants, old hoodie, dirty dress shoes, with his long and wild hair tied back low on his neck. Casual, handsome, distinctly wild. Calmly contained. He's intimidating, maybe, with his shoulders set and his heavy eyes, but his mouth is held in that pretty line. Unattainable, in a way that could be mistaken for human.

Donghyuck swallows, mouth dry.

The bus comes up over the hill; he can see it stopped at the light, and if he squints he can read the number on the front. "Let me help you count the money," he says, pulling silver from his pocket.

John plucks the coins one by one from Donghyuck's open palm.

By the time John steps up into the bus and carefully pays with his handful of quarters, Donghyuck has caught his breath. He doesn't wonder when it started running away. John says good morning to the bus driver and Donghyuck pushes him into a seat.

Donghyuck himself hovers over John, a protective barrier between a displaced god and the rest of humanity. John sits calmly in his chair while Donghyuck holds the bar over his head. John looks up at him and no further. He does not look at the strangers around them. He does not look at the inside of the vehicle. Only at Donghyuck.

"This is a bus," he says.

"Yep." Donghyuck feels more bodies piling in behind him. He shuffles forward dutifully, legs brushing his god's knees.

John grins. "I like it."

Donghyuck makes a face. "It's fine, I guess." It's dirty and a bit crowded, but it's not too bad. A bag digs into Donghyuck's back with a muffled apology. He's had to take the twins into town this way before, and it's miserable. He's hoping that John is better behaved.

Their legs jostle as the bus takes off. Donghyuck moves with the rhythm, one hand on the safety bar and one on the strap of his bag. "Three stops, and then after that it's us. Okay?"

John looks out the window behind him. "Alright. Three stops." His leg bounces lightly against Donghyuck's knee.

It's not the worst ride Donghyuck has ever had.The bus only gets very crowded after the second stop. All the seats are taken, someone caging John in on the left, and there's someone at Donghyuck's back that has to stretch very far to reach the safety rail. He just scoots in closer to John and keeps his mouth shut.

The god has spent most of the ride staring at the underside of Donghyuck's chin or gazing out the window at the shitty scenery, calculating. The more people that come onto the bus, the more John's focus shifts to the people around them, and the heavier his eyes get. When Donghyuck looks down at him, he's staring holes into the man at Donghyuck's back.

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow at him.

John is frowning, oddly intense. "He's touching you."

"He doesn't have much choice," Donghyuck replies in a harsh whisper. Sure, the man could be standing further away, but he'd be in someone's way no matter what, and Donghyuck can take care of himself.

The bus shifts, and the man leans in to move with gravity. Donghyuck feels a hand at his hip, steadying, and it's gone after a moment. John stares at where the touch lingered.

"Are you growling?" Donghyuck asks flatly.

John does not reply. There was definitely something bubbling in the back of his throat.

The third stop comes, and some people get off, but most are headed into the city major, and the bus crowds one more time. Donghyuck feels most of a chest against his back. The tension in John's shoulders is too much for the circumstance. Outside, a storm starts brewing. Donghyuck rolls his eyes.

A part of Donghyuck prays that the next stop comes quickly, not because of the crowding but because John seems like he might snap at any given moment. The touching doesn't bother him much — it happens all the time, and he probably wouldn't have noticed it too much if it weren't for the feral god in front of him. He does frown a bit, when the man behind turns his head and Donghyuck feels breathe on his neck.

John surges forward.

Donghyuck sees it coming. He takes his hand off his bag and puts it on John's head, pushing the god back down into his chair. John goes surprisingly easily, even if Donghyuck grips his hair to hold him down. "Absolutely not," Donghyuck says, the same way he scolds his siblings.

He lets his backpack fall sightly, a small barrier, and puts one of his legs between's John's to make more room for himself, and keeps one hand in John's hair. The god looks up at him, mouth slack. "Why not?" he asks, voice rumbling.

"Because I said so," Donghyuck tells him. As soon as John relaxes, he loosens his hold and smoothes the hair down. "Be patient." He looks out the window, reading the street signs through the first splatters of rain on the glass. "We're almost there."

John is appeased until the bus pulls to a halt, but Donghyuck looks at the storm clouds and knows better than to remove his hand from John's head. There are murmurs around them about the unexpected rain as people shuffle through the doors. Donghyuck huffs and pulls his hood over his head.

"Did you really have to?" he asks, pouting, tilting John's head up to look him in the eye. "It'll be miserable for us too if it storms, you know."

"You won't get wet." John's hand circles Donghyuck's wrist, and his face is calm and sincere again. "And all storms end eventually."

Thunder rumbles. Donghyuck looks at the sky, unimpressed. "That'd better be a promise," he grumbles, before moving with the flow of traffic. His tennis shoes hit cracked asphalt and it's raining in the city.

It was a promise; rain splatters on the pavement but none of it touches Donghyuck. It's conspicuous, and Donghyuck pulls John under a nearby awning until the angry weather has cleared. "You're so dramatic." Donghyuck puts his hood down and ruffles his hair. "You don't like crowds, do you?"

"Nothing wrong with crowds." John tucks his hands into his pockets again, eyes alert as he takes in the strangers headed for cover. The road is completely soaked by now, but the tension in John's face has faded, and so have the clouds. A freak shower, oddly timed and inconvenient.

The bus stop is full of people huddling out of the rain, and the shops across the street are old and ugly, but one of them has really good triangle kimbap. A man sits huddled against the wall with his wares: handmade jewelry his wife makes, but he hasn't been there for a while. Or maybe Donghyuck hasn't come into town for a few weeks. He's been busy. Life has been complicating things.

John is warm at Donghyuck's side, an easy distance apart, and they wait quietly until John's breath is more measured. "Will you call me Johnny more?" the god asks, suddenly, over the din of the street.

"Hmm?" Donghyuck blinks. He tries to remember when he called the god so familiarly, but it must have been earlier with the babies. "Johnny? I can."

The rain pitters off into nothing.

"So." Donghyuck scuffs his shoes on the sidewalk. "What did you want to see?"

John squints out at the crowd of people slowly making their way out of cover. "There is...a lot to see."

"Please don't tell me you made me come all the way out here to people watch." Donghyuck wrinkles his nose exaggeratedly. "I mean, you're valid, but no one is as interesting as a woodland creature dredged up from a mountain. We're just boring humans."

"I think you're interesting," says the god, and he starts walking deeper into the city, a head above the other people on the sidewalk. Donghyuck sticks to his side and assumes John has some kind of otherworldly ability that tells him how to navigate an area he hasn't existed in for centuries.

"You barely know me," Donghyuck points out.

John has no response for that.

It doesn't take very long for Donghyuck to narrow down the places they could be going. They head towards the historic district, which makes sense. Some of the buildings there have been standing for 700 or 800 years. If there were any landmarks John might know, they would be there.

There is one building that John would definitely know.

"Are you really sure you want to go there?" Donghyuck shoves his hands deeper in his pockets.

"I know what I want," John replies.

Donghyuck sniffs. "That was unnecessarily dramatic."

The crowd thins out the further they go into the historic area. The main shops are in the other direction, and the only people who come here are very rich people, very poor people, and trouble makers, depending on which neighborhood you're in.

John seems to walk confidently, and Donghyuck sticks closely beside him. The air is muggy with the memory of rain, and there's sweat pooling on Donghyuck's neck.

When they crest the hill, the old temple stands alone at the bottom.

"They put it here because of the flooding," John says. He's stopping there, on the sidewalk, looking like a disaster but his eyes are so old. "The rain surrounds the temple, when it storms."

"Not sure that's a structurally sound idea," Donghyuck notes.

John smiles at him, cocky. "You think I'd let my place of worship fall?"

Donghyuck doesn't say anything, but he can tell by the way that John's expression changes that it's written across his face. _But it fell._

"Let's go," Donghyuck says instead, and they make their way the final few steps.

It was clearly a beautiful building, once. Years and years ago, before it went into disrepair. A lot of the buildings around it have licenses, their quality upheld by the law on behalf of their age, but no one really owned the temple, and no one ever registered it. Anyone who might have believed in the spirits that were worshipped here are long dead.

Still. It was a beautiful building once. Donghyuck can imagine it being so.

The roof caved in at some point, long before Donghyuck was born, and once that happened any kind of maintenance was considered too much work for a building destined for demolition. The building is made of stone, mossy now, and the grass is cut short by the city. There's no signage, nothing to let you know what this place used to be, but everyone knows. That knowledge is something that's been passed down by people like Donghyuck's grandmother, who speak of it like they saw it in all it's glory.

Graffiti colors the side walls, shadowed by alleys. John runs his hand over vibrate paint, red and green and blue. The art is bold, some muted and covered up by new, more impressive work. The ground is soft with the rain, and Donghyuck's shoes sink into the earth like it's trying to hold him there. "They do it to all the buildings," he says eventually, when John says nothing.

"It's pretty," John admits. "What do they call it?"

"Graffiti."

"We had it in my time, too," he says. "It looked different, but I don't find humans change that much, as time passes."

Donghyuck laughs. "Like children?"

After a moment, John remembers, and he smiles. "Like children." He pauses. "Children are also humans."

"Sometimes they're demons." Donghyuck tugs on John's sleeve. "Can we go inside? I've always wanted to."

His grandmother used to talk about this place like it was a dream. About the god who was offered lavender and the stone archways and the songs people would sing. Donghyuck was a teenager when he realized there's no way she ever could have heard it, but she spoke with so much conviction. Humanity doesn't believe in the divine anymore, but there's something comforting in the idea of it. A simpler time, where people sang and threw rice and lived happily.

Inside is just as decrepit as the outside. There's less graffiti, but what is there is more grand. There's a huge full-body portrait of some kind of celestial being, arms out. He looks nothing like John, save the way he overshadows everything else. The painting wears white and gold and ice blue, and is drawn over crumbling alters. There's foliage growing through the cracks in the flooring. Rain drips peacefully from the holes in the ceiling. The tapestries on the wall are spotted and stained.

If Donghyuck listens closely, he can hear the singing. It might just be the wind.

"Is it...what you wanted to see?" It's very quiet here. Donghyuck's voice echoes. He runs his hands over the back of the pew and gets water and dirt on his palm.

John hums. His eyes shine in the unlit room, and he bites his lip, raking in all the details. "No." A soft admission. He swallows. Sets his shoulders.

They're still standing in the back of the sanctuary, but John strides up to the altar with sure steps. Truthfully, Donghyuck thinks John should be a little sad. This was his home, or the closest thing to it, right? Donghyuck thinks about selling their house and feels broken. He can't imagine seeing it destroyed.

"I'm sorry, Johnny," he says.

The god pauses, and turns. He holds his hand out to help Donghyuck clamber over a pile of wreckage. "Don't apologize." He smiles. His eyes are red, just slightly, but his smile is brighter than Donghyuck has ever seen it. "I would never have seen this place again, if not for you."

Donghyuck stares at the outstretched hand and feels stone in his stomach. _I saved you to save myself,_ he thinks, even as he takes the offering. It was a very selfish thing. It didn't matter to Donghyuck that John would not have seen this place again. Donghyuck had not known John existed enough to feel pain. "Don't be too thankful," he says quietly.

John wraps his fingers around Donghyuck's hand. "I will always be thankful, no matter what you think I should I feel."

Donghyuck steps over the ruined remains of the ceiling, a small mountain.

The ground is uneven — the foundation is breaking, and there are small pools of rain water here and there that have traveled down the hill. Donghyuck thinks it's a little poetic that the rain has collected here, almost as if to worship its god. Flowers bloom out of the ground and the walls are crumbled and the inherent beauty of it all is distracting. The large body leading Donghyuck onward is enough to keep him grounded, but there’s something about John that is also distracting. His shadow, maybe, or the weight of him.

The altar is heavy stone, smudged with handprints in dust and lurid paint. John stares at it with a strange intensity, a frown tugging at his pretty mouth, and Donghyuck looks at him, uncertain. "Are you...?" He isn't sure what he's trying to ask. The air is too quiet.

John puts his hand on the altar. The quiet in the air becomes heavy, oppressive. Donghyuck struggles breathing.

Stone cracks.

Donghyuck gasps, sucks in a breath and chokes on it. The sound of the shattering shocks, but John remains unbothered. He's tall, and stoic, and he pushes the slabs of stone away without a sound. That's fine. It's heavy, slamming on the floor and cracking again.

The altar is deep, and glittering.

"Oh, god," Donghyuck breathes.

John pulls out a string of pearls from the altar. It shines in the light. Donghyuck stares at it, eyes wide, and then stares into the darkness of the altar and sees the gold that glitters. Piles of it. Mountains and mountains of gold and sparkle and shine. Donghyuck has never seen so much wealth in once space. He clutches the edge of the ruined stone with white knuckles.

Movement. John holds the pearls out to Donghyuck. "For you."

They swing in front of Donghyuck like a pendulum.

Shaking hands — how often will Donghyuck's hands shake when he reaches out for this god?

The pearls are cool to the touch, like water, and they roll in Donghyuck's palm. "They're..." He swallows, shallow. "They're perfect."

John tucks his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders set, and he grins despite the absurdity of it all. He looks like a normal boy. He looks like someone Donghyuck might know. He doesn't look like he can break stone with his hands. He doesn't look like someone who could save Donghyuck, but he can. He can.

"I can't..." Donghyuck looks at the pearls, and he looks at John — lost.

"You can." John leans in closer, subtle, and he is still smiling. "Of course you can." And then, like a secret; "For the shower."

Donghyuck laughs. He laughs loud and hard and it rings. "For the shower." He sighs, happy somehow, and allows himself to settle into the rocks and water and flowers and company. Another laugh, small, and a smile at John, small.

John's expression softens, and wherever it lands makes Donghyuck jittery.

"I..." John takes a deep breath, eyes laser focused. Donghyuck can see his eyes flicker down to the mole of his cheek and then up to his eyes and then down to the pearls in Donghyuck's hands. "There is so much that I can give you."

There's something terrifying about the way John changes so completely in the blink of an eye. He's bright one moment and then brooding in the next, and sometimes his eyes are so weighted that it takes Donghyuck's breath away. The longer they stand here, the more Donghyuck wonders if he was ever really frightened of John at all. There's nothing to fear in this moment, in this man, but Donghyuck is still shaking.

"Well." Donghyuck clears this throat and looks at the ruined pews. "It would be rude...not to accept." His mother taught him better than that. He looks up at John, mouth pursed, and he feels horribly shy for a reason he can't name.

Down in the darkness, enough treasure to fill Donghyuck's living room sparkles and shines like a promise. His throat is thick.

"What is it you want most?" John asks, leaning one hip against the altar, casual as anything. Jarring. Gone is his god and back is the boy that Donghyuck might pass on the street. He's smiling again.

"I want..." Donghyuck hasn't thought about it in any way that matters. _I want to stop feeling left behind._ "School?" _I want to stop worrying about bills._ "A nap?" He laughs. _I want my family to be okay._

John tilts his head and his eyes catch the light. Why can't this man ever let Donghyuck catch his breath? "Anything you want, I will give you. Everything I have is yours."

Donghyuck looks at the glitter and gold. "Don't say that," he says softly. "I don't deserve that much."

He says it and knows immediately that John is going to argue — why wouldn't he? Donghyuck saved Johnny, and Johnny is worth so much. If Donghyuck is worth a string of pearls that's still more than he had before.

John does open his mouth, and then he snaps it shut, and every relaxed thing about him snaps into crisp focus. He stares at the entrance, the rocks and ruin and the light shining through from outside.

"Is everything...okay?" Donghyuck starts, but before the final word is out John has stood up and pushed past him, back down the aisle.

"Stay here," he says, stern as stone.

There's something terrifying about the way John changes so completely. There's something terrifying about the way Donghyuck is not terrified. He follows.

It takes him longer to clamber over the rubble, and he takes unsure steps over uneven ground, and by the time he's made it into the larger sanctuary John has already made it into the sunlight. When Donghyuck finally pushes through the front doors, all he sees is John's back and a shadow.

Not a shadow, but a man. A beautiful man, reaching out to touch John's face with wide eyes.

"Hello again," John says, and it rings. Soft.

This moment looks like something intimate, and long overdue. The man cups John's face with both hands, brow furrowed, and the feel of him is so bittersweet. A sad and beautiful song of a person, and John covers the stranger's hand with his own. "Yes," he says, to a question Donghyuck didn't hear. "I woke up. It was time."

John's face is so open and sad and friendly and vulnerable and it makes Donghyuck ache. This is not Donghyuck's to see. He clutches the doorway with a white-knuckled grip. This stranger, is he not so strange? Is he someone to John that Donghyuck can't imagine? Did John know this man before, long ago, when the temple wasn't covered in graffiti and nostalgia?

Donghyuck hovers in the doorway. "Ah..." Unbidden. Hesitant. His heart pounds.

It doesn't matter that the sound is so small Donghyuck himself can barely hear it. Both John and the stranger turn to look at him, and the stranger's face flattens into something cold and unreadable. He's dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans, and something about him is otherworldly. His face, maybe — the beauty of it. Or the way he looks at Donghyuck and sees through him.

The stranger looks at John, a smile tugging at his mouth, and the muscles of John's jaw twitch unhappily.

Donghyuck watches, and the stranger beckons him over with a wave of his hand.

"Sicheng," John says, a warning.

Sicheng seems unimpressed, and Donghyuck draws closer despite the way John's hackles rise. The hand held out slips under Donghyuck's chin, and John grabs Sicheng by the wrist just before flesh fingers touch flesh. The stranger raises his eyebrows at John in challenge, and the air is charged and crackling for a moment before John huffs and lets go.

The hand tilts Donghyuck's face up to the light. It's an intimate gesture for strangers, but Donghyuck thinks he might be in a trance. This man's eyes are so calm, and his fingers are cool on Donghyuck's skin, and there are worse things in the world than being seen.

Donghyuck can't think of many, but in this moment that's the truth.

_A human,_ says a voice, and although this man's lips don't move, Donghyuck knows it belongs to him. _A god risen from his grave, and he collected a human._ A laugh, or the impression of one.

"Are you also a god?" Donghyuck asks, dreamy. John is not the only one of his kind. Donghyuck has not considered that before, but the thought is too distant to worry him. All he can see is Sicheng.

_I am._ It makes sense. There's a kind of grandeur about him, a weight that he and John share, like if Donghyuck tried to see all of them he would fail over and over again. The edges are too broad.

"Stop imposing yourself," John says, cold, and Donghyuck looks at him out of the corner of his eye. John himself is scowling in Sicheng's direction. "You can speak to him without making him moony-eyed."

Sicheng rolls his eyes. _Jealousy is a disease._ Still, when he turns his eyes back to Donghyuck he seems softer, less otherworldly, and Donghyuck starts wondering how weird today is going to get before he can go home.

The stranger squints at him, sighs. _You have an interesting future._

"You can see that?"

_Sometimes._ A soft smile. _Does that alarm you?_

"Maybe." If Sicheng is a god and can see so much, then perhaps John can see just as much. "What else can you see?"

Sicheng grins, and it's breathtaking. A bit wicked, a bit condescending, but beautiful. _Oh, human. If you could understand the things we see..._ He looks at John. _Is this the creature that saved you? He has a heavy mark on his back. Destiny? _That smile sharpens. _Or perhaps the hand of god?___

"Shut up," John scowls.

"Who did you learn that from?" Donghyuck chastises, scoffing. "Was it Doyeon? I swear."

"It was your mother," John replies, shameless. "If Doyeon has learned that you should blame her."

Donghyuck snorts.

Sicheng doesn't say anything, just flits between the two of them. John has his arms crossed, like a toddler in a tantrum, and if things felt more normal Donghyuck would be laughing at him. Sicheng seems more inclined to look at him with wonder.

_Truthfully...I never thought I'd see you again._ Sicheng looks over Donghyuck's head.

John melts, red hot turning cool blue. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

_I know._ Sicheng shakes his head. His fingers are still on Donghyuck's jaw, and after a moment of contemplation he eases his fingers over Donghyuck's pulse point. _I should thank you for living, I guess, so that my friend can also live._

If Donghyuck's heart beats faster, Sicheng is the only one who knows. "I..." The pearls are heavy in Donghyuck's pocket. "I needed his help."

Sicheng looks at him, sniffs. _Is that what you've told yourself?_ He laughs. _Humans are all the same._

John makes a sound, low in his throat. "You have already established a connection," he tells Sicheng. Donghyuck can make no sense of that, but Sicheng smirks, so it must mean something. "You don't need to touch him anymore."

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. "Johnny, really?" Sure, Sicheng's hand on his pulse feels like a knife, but there's a blunt edge on him. "Aren't you friends? Would he hurt me if you're right here?"

He doesn't pretend to understand gods. He doesn't even pretend to understand John, in the three days they've known each other — it feels like a lifetime but it's the blink of an eye. Still, the petty jealousy in Johnny's expression is easy enough to read.

And Donghyuck feels safe enough, if John is here.

There's a thoughtful sound, and Sicheng's hand slips idly from Donghyuck's throat. _Perhaps not all humans are the same_. He narrows his eyes, and he looks at John. _The others will learn of you. They've missed you._

John looks over his shoulder at the ruins of his temple and he sighs. "I'm not sure I'm looking forward to a family reunion."

Donghyuck looks at John in alarm. "Like...an immortal family?" His chest feels tight. "They'll come here?"

_We haven't seen our brother in half a millennia,_ Sicheng says, quite cold. You cannot keep him from us.

Truthfully, Donghyuck knows that he could not stop anyone like Sicheng. "Let them come." A family is a family, and Donghyuck won't keep John from his.

"Tell them the truth," John says, hands in his pockets. A raised eyebrow. "And tell them what I told you."

Sicheng grins. _You want me to threaten our brothers and sisters?_

"You threatened him?" Donghyuck hisses, grabbing John by the arm. "Aren't you friends?"

John lifts his chin, proud, and he looks like someone who could move mountains without the help of Donghyuck and his shovel. "Friendship works differently when it's for eternity."

"I'm sure a lot of things work differently." Donghyuck thinks of mud and treasure and the careful way John held his baby sister. He thinks of the way John looks at Sicheng, and the way John looks at Donghyuck himself, and the way John looked at the strangers on the bus.

_I will warn them,_ Sicheng says, amused. _They will not listen, but I will warn them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	4. the perfect creature rarely seen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What's important to you?" Donghyuck asks. "Is there anything?" For a god, John has so little. Just a house and some children and a human that needs his help.
> 
> John is quiet. "Yes." He doesn't say anything else, even as the clock ticks and Donghyuck waits.
> 
> Donghyuck sighs, leaning down to kiss Dongseok's forehead. "Then you'd better hold on tight, I guess." He looks over at the god in the doorway. The clock keeps ticking. "Goodnight, Johnny."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is a [playlist thread](https://twitter.com/fuIImarks/status/1241845934381838337?s=20) of the music I listen to for the Vibes. everyone has a different take tho!

The theater is quiet this early in the morning. The sun is still down, and there's the steady rolling of cars down the street, but there are only three or four parked in the lot. It's 5am. The wind is sharp and smells like the city, but Donghyuck doesn't mind. He rattles his keys as he walks to unlock the front door. Birds fly overhead, squawking in unison. He smiles at them, rubbing tired eyes, and then the door opens and it's warm.

There are some things Donghyuck hates about working two jobs. He hates that he has to. He hates that his schedule is crazy and he doesn't have time to rest. He hates when he inconveniences his coworkers because of time conflicts. He hates some things so much.

But he really loves opening the theater. It's early — another thing he hates — but it's calm and peaceful and this place feels like a castle. Big and echoing and hung with tapestries and colors and photographs of people Donghyuck has never met. He turns the lights on and nothing really comes alive. It's a slow sort of waking up, like the building needs to find its breath before it can be full and bright and lively. Donghyuck understands. The coffee in his cup is cold and bitter, but he's thankful for it.

John made it this morning. Donghyuck had come down the hallway to see John and his mother fiddling with the coffee pot, and the god had looked so proud of himself when he presented it to Donghyuck. His mother was laughing, because she knows Donghyuck doesn't like coffee, and John also knows he doesn't like coffee, but he said, "it will help you," and Donghyuck took it without hesitation.

It does help. Donghyuck isn't aching and tired the way he often is, six days working and dead on his feet. He spins his cup and opens up the control room.

His boss is an older man named Kenny. Kenny speaks three languages and all three he's just shy of fluent — even his first language sometimes comes out garbled — but he's a fun man and he likes Donghyuck and trusts him to run rehearsals by himself. That suits Donghyuck just fine. He likes being in the control room alone.

Humming to himself, he starts working through the lighting cues for the morning's rehearsal.

This job doesn't pay as much as his job at the restaurant, but it's soothing and enjoyable, and it combines so many of Donghyuck's favorite things. The show director walks into the auditorium and Donghyuck overlooks as things start to wake up.

Donghyuck's favorite projects to work on are always musical theater shows, but the current rehearsals are for a modern dance concert, and Donghyuck likes working on those as well, even if he doesn't always get the aesthetics. Some of his friends from school work as interns with the company that's trickling into the auditorium. About forty five minutes before the rehearsal is supposed to start, someone stands on stage and waves at the tech box — Jeno, someone Donghyuck went to college with last year — and someone else tackles him to the ground and forces him to start stretching. Donghyuck grins into his cold coffee.

It's a good morning.

There's not a lot for Donghyuck to do for the first couple of hours. The dancers warm up, do class, and some of the rougher pieces walk through their cues. Donghyuck follows along for the walk-throughs, but nothing requires a ton of concentration until they start the full run.

They block the first act start to finish, and Donghyuck can see all the dancers sweating and groaning as soon as the lights go out, but there's something satisfying about it. Donghyuck used to dance more when he was younger. There's a release in working your hardest.

Jeno makes his way up to the tech box during their intermission. There are dancers littered all across the auditorium with their lunches. Someone ordered four pizzas. Jeno himself holds an overlarge reusable grocery bag as he delicately opens the door. "Friend," he sings quietly.

Donghyuck turns in his chair and takes off his headset. "You come up here all the time, but you still can't eat in here."

"Mhmm." Jeno sits on the floor and starts unloading his Tupperware. There's rice and vegetables and hard boiled eggs. Something smells, maybe tuna, and another tub of beef. "Stop me if you can."

It's a nice little picnic that Jeno has prepared. Two years ago he started this health craze, learned how to cook almost overnight, and somehow finds the time to take care of himself amongst all the other things he has to do. "You overportioned a bit, buddy," Donghyuck says, watching as Jeno treats his tote like Mary Poppin's pulling a lamp from her purse.

Jeno holds out a second pair of chopsticks to Donghyuck. "I know you don't bring lunch."

Donghyuck laughs and slinks to the floor.

It's a bit dusty and there are empty Mountain Dew bottles and broken pits of technology scattered under the tables because no one really sweeps up here, but it's a nice break. "Thanks for the food," Donghyuck says quietly, and opens the tin of beef.

Jeno has always been easy company. They haven't been friends for very long, but he has a good personality and a laidback temper, and he can put up with both Donghyuck and Jaemin at the same time. It's commendable. He laughs at Donghyuck's jokes and he asks after Donghyuck's family and he is quiet about his own life until Donghyuck bothers him about it enough.

"Things are good." Jeno taps his mouth with his chopsticks. He still looks handsome, despite working hard for the past three hours. "The company is taking up a lot of time, but there are some choreographers that have mentioned wanting to work with me after the show, which is..." He laughs. "I don't know. Unreal, kind of."

Unreal. Donghyuck knows that feeling. "You deserve it."

"Well." Jeno smiles. Smiling has always suited him the best. "We'll see how things play out." It's funny, because Jeno has always been ambitious in a way that toils. He's always clearly seen the fruits of his labor, but it's good that the people who matter are finally seeing it, too. "But, uh...how are you?"

Donghyuck stabs an egg with his chopstick. "You already asked me that." He raises his eyebrows.

"Right." Jeno coughs. "I just, you know, feel like I should ask."

"Sure." Donghyuck snorts. "What did Jaemin tell you?"

"Nothing," Jeno says, too innocent.

Jaemin talks too much, especially with cute boys. Donghyuck crosses his arms and smiles flatly. "If he's worried about me, he should think of himself. He's a mess."

"Yeah, that's true." Jeno laughs. He shifts, sitting on the floor with his legs out in a straddle. Donghyuck hears the bones pop. "We're both a little worried. You've always worked yourself so hard. It's been worse since you...you know. Since you put your degree on hold."

"That's a delicate way of saying I dropped out."

Jeno clicks his tongue. "Hyuck. You didn't drop out." He purses his lips. "I mean, if you wanted to that's okay, but you always said you were going to come back. You love production. You loved school...parts of it, anyway." He sighs. "It's not your fault it got taken away from you."

That's also a delicate explanation of things. Truthfully, before everything fell apart, Donghyuck was hanging on to education by scholarships and the seat of his pants. That was with two working parents and only two other children in the house. Things got harder, when he lost a parent and gained a sibling, and he lost a lot of other things and gained some more. The universe never quite balanced out to begin with. The scales just varied a little more dramatically these days.

It's fine. He's surviving. "I'm okay," Donghyuck tells Jeno primly. "I'm going to go back to school. I'll be okay."

He thinks of Johnny. He doesn't need to be thinking of Johnny but he thinks about him anyway.

There are lots of things running through his head. When he climbed the mountain, he'd wanted favor, but now he just wants things to smooth out. Some days he feels like he's walking over glass and cracked asphalt in his bare feet, trudging on with no end in sight, but there's a string of pearls sitting on his dresser now. There's a god on his porch steps.

He thinks about Johnny, waving goodbye with Dongseok on his hip, and the strange feeling it left in Donghyuck's stomach as he walked towards the bus stop. He thought about that image quite a lot this morning.

"Oh, okay." Jeno smiles secretly into his rice. "I get it."

Donghyuck squints. "Get what?"

"I know that face." Jeno doesn't pull this face often, the one that eats shit, but it's plastered all over his face now.

"What face?"

"The smitten face."

"Excuse me?" Donghyuck turns red. "What face? Hello?"

The time goes off on stage, and Jeno dutifully starts packing up the ruins of their picnic. "That's the same face you pulled when you were dating Jaemin. I know that face."

Donghyuck throws the chopsticks at Jeno's head. "I don't have a face. Who's got a face?"

"Okay, okay." Jeno is going to text Jaemin after rehearsal and Donghyuck is going to be interrogated within an inch of his life if he doesn't nip this in the bud now. "There's no face. I get it."

"This is bullshit. There's no face."

"Okay."

"Is that all you can say?"

"I'm next up," Jeno chirps, leaning in to plant a kiss to the angry lines on Donghyuck's forehead. "Make me pretty, got it?"

Donghyuck misses Jeno's spotlight on purpose. It's worth the start over for the way Jeno flips him the bird from the stage.

"Good work, everyone," says the rehearsal director, and Donghyuck doesn't bother watching the dancers hold their ending meeting while he starts clearing up his station to go home. He has another shift at the restaurant this evening — Kunhang called out of bars, and Nayeon promised him sushi if he could extend to the closing shift.

By the time Donghyuck locks up the booth and gets the stage clear for the cleaning crew to come in later, it's mid-afternoon and Donghyuck aches to get home. He needs a shower. Sitting in the booth always makes him feel grimy. He wonders if he should wait until after his next shift, if dusty and greasy would be manageable for however long until he lines his pockets with tips and makes his way home for the night.

He prefers taking the bus in the morning when it's quiet and a little lonely. He isn't naturally a morning person, but he relishes the quiet when he has it. He gets it so rarely. Mid afternoon isn't terrible. Most people are already at work by now, so all he has to worry about are the college kids who have a late start.

The street is more lively and the sun is hotter on the pavement. Donghyuck tilts his head up towards the sun and hums. It's a pretty day.

It gets colder, like Donghyuck walked under a bucket of water. His arms erupt with goosebumps. He shivers.

There's only one person waiting at the bus stop. It's a young woman, wearing a long coat and a large scarf that covers half of her face. She sits with a straight spine, legs crossed, like she's posing for a painting. Her hair is coiled up on the top of her head. Her cheeks are rosy where they peek out of her scarf, skin like porcelain.

Donghyuck does not sit beside her. She takes up so much space for someone rather small.

He leans against the side of the bus stop and pulls out his phone.

It's silent, for a moment. Donghyuck's ears are buzzing from the music at the auditorium. Something howls, maybe the wind. Donghyuck feels something heavy on the back of his neck.

The woman stands.

Donghyuck's gaze flicks up towards the street, expecting to see the bus rolling to a stop in front of him, but there's nothing. Nothing is rolling at all. The cars are stopped on the road. Pedestrians stand like statues. There's not an engine hum to be heard.

When Donghyuck turns his head, She is right beside him.

It takes his breath away. She's beautiful. Her skin is pale white, but the blush is stark against the sickliness. Her eyes are warm and brown. There's no wind but her scarf whips behind her. When She pushes down the bulk of her scarf, her mouth is painted blood red. Donghyuck can't help but stare at her.

"Hello," She says. Her voice is honey. The circles under her eyes look like bruises. Warm and cold, all at once. Is She dangerous?

Donghyuck tries to speak and finds he cannot.

"I wonder what he sees in you." Her eyes rake over Donghyuck, and he grips the strap of his bag but does not move. "Is it potential? Or something more fragile?" Her hand raises. Her nails are sharp and painted chipped black. Is She delicate or brutal?

She touches Donghyuck's cheek.

Donghyuck's phone rings.

It feels like a head rush. The blood moves so quickly that Donghyuck's vision blacks out, and he dry heaves for a moment. Vertigo. His bag drops to the ground through slack fingers. His other hand clutches the railing.

When he stands up straight, She is gone.

His phone is still ringing.

"Hello?" Donghyuck answers, throat tight. He needs water.

"Hyuckie!" Jaemin's voice is too bright over the phone. "Mark mentioned you and I remembered I wanted to call."

Wobbly, Donghyuck picks up his bag. There are more people waiting for the bus now, and only one of them is looking at him oddly. A bird caws at him from atop a stop sign. Donghyuck makes a face at it and catches his break. "I'm fine."

"Whoa there, buddy, didn't suggest you weren't. Are you projecting?"

"Don't say that like you didn't tell Jeno to baby me." Donghyuck scowls. His head aches, just a bit. His memory is hazy. He doesn't feel well. Did he leave something at the theater? Something is missing. "I can't get mad at Jeno so I have to get mad at you."

"So valid." Jaemin has that dreamy tone to his voice. Donghyuck hates that tone. It makes Jaemin sound like a cartoon character. "Well, someone has to baby you."

"I'm not a baby, so that's not true." The bus rolls up. Donghyuck checks his pockets to make sure he didn't lose anything — he's missing something, he knows he is — before milling on with the others. "All I need is water and sunlight."

"Okay, sunflower," Jaemin says. "Well, I don't really have anything to talk about. I just really missed you recently. How is your...uh...new nanny?"

It's a recent development that John has started taking care of the children. It seems like a rather mundane way for a god to help Donghyuck, but it works, and life is a lot easier when he doesn't have to worry about what to do when Jaemin has classes and he and his mother are both at work. Sure, every time Donghyuck goes off to work John gets huffy, but Donghyuck doesn't think he minds looking after the babies either.

"The nanny is good." The kids love him. Last time he'd walked in to Doyeon drawing John into a family portrait. John had...well. He'd been smiling. It was sweet. Donghyuck doesn't really like dwelling on it. "Hasn't destroyed anything recently. I'm thinking that's a win."

"Can we just address the fact that you pulled up a local cryptid like a fucking cabbage and we're referring to him as the nanny?" Jaemin's voice is a harsh whisper. Mark is probably sprawled over the couch on his computer like he usually is, but Jaemin's never been subtle so the whispering is probably useless. "Can you imagine him dressed up as Fran? With the hair? Oh my god."

"Okay, goodbye Jaemin. Thanks for checking in."

"Bitch, don't go. Just think about it!"

Donghyuck can barely think about John in general — he does not need to be thinking about John wearing a dress.

"I'm getting on the bus, I have to go." Donghyuck doesn't bother listening to Jaemin whine. "Goodbye forever."

He feels much more settled as the bus pulls away from the stop.

* * *

There's a car in the driveway.

That's not entirely out of the ordinary, except that Donghyuck's mother is at work and will be working for the next five hours at least, and this giant white van is not one Donghyuck recognizes. There's a big logo on the side in pale blue that Donghyuck also does not recognize, but it doesn't do anything to make Donghyuck less concerned.

He opens the door with a bit more force than usual. "Hello? I'm home!" Loud. Mildly panicked. Calm exterior.

John is sitting on the couch in the living room with Dohee asleep on his shoulder. Dongseok and Doyeon are arguing over Lego designs on the carpet, and Dongseok is winning because he is ignoring everything Doyeon says.

"Welcome home," John says calmly from the couch. He's taken to wearing his hair in a bun even when they don't go out into town. It makes his face look stronger, pulled back that way, but it's still wild. Donghyuck thinks John will always look a little wild. "How was the rehearsal?"

"It was fine." Donghyuck jerks his thumb towards the front door. "Creepy white van?"

"It's the..." John frowns, eyebrows drawn. "What is it called, Doyeon?"

"The plum..." Doyeon pauses, Lego raised overhead to destroy her brother's castle. "Seokie, what is it called?"

"Plumber," Dongseok says, right before Doyeon rips his creation in two.

"The plumber," John answers. Dongseok wordlessly starts building another structure from the ruins of his first iteration. "We called the plumber."

Donghyuck stares at him, awestruck. "How?"

"Mommy left the computer on." Doyeon points to the desktop, an old Frankenstein of technology that Donghyuck had pieced together over and over. "We Googled it. I made the phone call." She sounds very proud of herself. Donghyuck can only imagine how that phone call went.

"Doyeonie made one of the four calls we had to make." John raises an eyebrow. "Google is the closest humankind has made it to the gods," he says solemnly, but the way he holds his mouth says he's laughing.

Donghyuck purses his lips. "Okay." He takes a deep breath, brain running miles and miles. "How are we...Doyeonie, we don't have money for a plumber to fix the shower."

"Johnny already paid," Doyeon says, sticking her tongue out at him. She slams Legos together until something sticks. "Johnny has a lot of money. We should just let Johnny pay for everything."

The sound that climbs out of Donghyuck's throat is inhuman.

"I don't think Donghyuck would like that," Johnny tells her mildly.

Doyeon frowns at him. "Isn't that what you're for?"

"Doyeon." Donghyuck's voice is unexpectedly sharp.

John looks at Donghyuck and it's so fond that Donghyuck can't imagine he deserves it. "I don't think Donghyuck would like that very much, either."

"Donghyuck wants a nap," Donghyuck says with a sigh, because there's nothing else he can say. There's whirling down the hallway, the clunking of boots and the whirring of a drill, and Donghyuck doesn't think he's getting that any time soon. He throws his bag on the kitchen table.

There's rustling, and John is very carefully standing up with the baby still draped over his chest. Donghyuck watches him hesitantly, but John walks towards him with purpose, face drawn. "Work was alright?"

"You asked that already." Donghyuck counts the tiles on the floor and scratches his neck. "It was okay. I saw an old friend and he made me lunch, so that was nice."

John feels heavy. He always feels quite heavy. He's staring at Donghyuck's face, and Donghyuck looks at him sideways, just a challenge. A small one. John does not back away from it. "Nothing happened on the way home?"

Donghyuck frowns. "No...Jaemin called." John doesn't know Jaemin. "Another friend. He's useless. Nothing else."

Slowly, John lifts his hand and brushes his fingers against Donghyuck's cheek. His eyes are warm, but they bore into Donghyuck's with such force. "Are you sure?"

Is Donghyuck's heart supposed to stop? Is this normal? Is he supposed to be holding his breath? Are John's fingers supposed to linger?

"I..." Donghyuck isn't sure about anything. "I don't...think so."

"Excuse me."

Donghyuck jerks back so hard he slams his hip into the table.

The plumber is walking down the hallway, her hair tied back and her face very red. She's a bigger woman, very pretty, and she's sweating through her t-shirt, but she looks like she's got enough breath to laugh at them. "I don't know what you guys did to that shower, but I'll have to come back another day to really fix it." She looks between John and Donghyuck. "You'll need someone else to repair the tile, but the plumbing I can take care of in another day, if I can get the right parts."

"Um, thanks." Donghyuck wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans.

"I can take care of the tiling, as long as the plumbing is done." John adjusts Dohee. She's half-awake, tugging on loose strands of his hair. "Another day? When will you be able to come back?"

Donghyuck sinks into a chair as John and the plumber work through schedules. The tablet she pulls out makes John's eyes light up, but he knows better than to ask questions. Donghyuck smiles at him, just a little, while they settle on another appointment for Wednesday.

"Will one of you be here at eight in the morning?" she asks, looking between them.

"On Wednesday?" Donghyuck rifles through his mental calendar. "I don't work until later that day but I'll probably have to leave before you finish."

"I'll be here." John adjusts Dohee again, and Donghyuck holds his arms out to take her so that John can shake the woman's hand. (That had been another fun cultural lesson, after the shopkeeper bewildered John with a handshake while they were buying pants).

"I'll see you then." She tucks the tablet back into her pocket and smiles at them both. "You guys have a beautiful family."

"Oh...uh." Donghyuck looks at John in alarm. Is it worth it to correct her? "Thanks?"

John beams. "Thank you."

The twins wave the nice woman goodbye, and the engine of the van is loud and rumbly as it pulls out of the driveway.

* * *

"What are you guys hiding?"

"Nothing." Doyeon does not look innocent at all. She gives a good effort, but she's never been innocent in her life, and Johnny is even worse at lying than she is.

Donghyuck puts his hands on his hips. They're outside, helping his mother garden, and John and Doyeon had snuck away without a word for nearly half an hour. As if that's not suspicious enough, John won't even look Donghyuck in the eye. Doyeon is a bald-faced liar, and stubborn, but John lies like it hurts him.

Dongseok throws stray weeds into the plant waste bag with chubby hands. There's dirt on his nose. "They found a cat."

"A cat?" Donghyuck asks.

"No, we didn't!" Doyeon insists.

There's a distinct meow from behind them both.

Johnny looks at Donghyuck with wide eyes. "What's a cat?"

"Oh, please." Donghyuck rolls his eyes. "Where is the cat?"

"Can you explain what a cat is to me, so that I can direct you better?" John says robotically, leaning back as Donghyuck marches closer. He stands his ground, but Donghyuck puts a hand on his and pushes and the god bends easily.

A cat, black as pitch, lays casually amongst the pulled up weeds. She's pretty, very sleek, obviously healthy. Part of her ear is scarred. Donghyuck watches her for a moment, and she blinks at him with amber eyes. They remind him of Johnny's.

"This is the neighbor's cat," Donghyuck says.

"She was on our porch," John says, and he and Doyeon have this in common — they're both stubborn. "That means she's ours."

"That's not what that means at all." Donghyuck laughs. The serious look on John's face is too much.

Doyeon tugs on Donghyuck's jeans with muddy hands. "She's ours now! Johnny said so. And she's so nice and pretty and her ear is so cool! We have the space to keep her! I looked!"

"Space?" Donghyuck rubs his temples. "Where?"

"We're going to share a bed," Doyeon says, matter-of-factly. "Dongseokie and I have shared before and the kitty is way smaller."

Donghyuck squats down so she'll stop getting dirt all over his pants. "Okay, but Doyeonie, the cat isn't ours. The cat already belongs to someone else." Granny Lim wanders around the neighborhood with all sorts of cats, and Donghyuck doesn't think he could recognize most of them. There's only three that she walks regularly. This one he's definitely seen her carrying around, though. "Are you going to steal from Grandma Lim? After all the cakes she's made for you? Doyeonie, that's so mean."

Doyeon's lip juts out. "Granny has _so many_ cats and I don't even have _one._ "

"Granny Lim seems like a reasonable woman," John says, clutching a rake in both hands. "If I explain it to her, I'm certain she'll be okay with it."

Donghyuck makes a face at him. "Explain _what?_ "

"That the cat is mine now," John says, so simply it nearly sends Donghyuck into hysterics.

"We are not stealing Granny Lim's cat?" Donghyuck straightens up. "Why do you think we need a cat? We don't need a cat."

"The cat goes where she wants, and she's here, so she's ours until she leaves." The set of John's mouth is mulish, and Donghyuck stares at him all the harder.

It's hard to argue with a god, and even harder with a fool. "The cat goes where she wants, but she belongs to Granny Lim!" Donghyuck dusts off his hands. "We need to take the cat back."

Doyeon wails like a banshee. Her tiny feet stomp into the freshly turned soil, but they're all dirty enough that Donghyuck isn't too worried about the mess.

"Doyeon," their mother says dryly. "Remember when we got you a fish and you killed it?" She blows the hair out of her face, her gloves covered in debris.

"It was her time," Doyeon says seriously, a line she stole from their preacher.

Donghyuck looks at John flatly. "We're not keeping the cat." He reaches down and, after giving the cat time to deny him, picks her up with careful hands. "We are going to take the cat back to Granny's, and then we are going to never talk about stealing from our neighbors again, okay?"

The cat meows plaintively.

"She doesn't want to go," John says, chin up.

"Do not encourage Doyeon," Donghyuck tells him, desperately. "She will steal literally every cat she sees on the street."

"The cat wants to stay."

"The cat can stay," Donghyuck allows, "but not forever." He frowns. "She doesn't belong to us. You know that."

She looks up at Donghyuck with those amber eyes, and he understands why they want to hold on to her. She's pretty. That doesn't change the truth. He huffs out a laugh. "We'll let her hang out, but she doesn't come into the house, okay? If I see you sneak her inside, Doyeonie, I'll send you to Saturday school again."

"That's not fair!" Doyeon wails. "Seokie, don't you want a cat?"

"Seokie is allergic," their mother says calmly, watching over Dongseok pulling up weeds to make sure he doesn't pull the heads off any flowers.

John deflates. "The cat wants to stay."

"The cat can't stay." Donghyuck hands the cat to John, and she yawns wide before burrowing her head in his elbow. "The cat isn't ours."

"What if Granny Lim wants to give us the cat?" John asks. He's absently scratching her head. She looks very small in his arms. "What then?"

Donghyuck lifts his chin. He can be stubborn too — it's a family trait. "We still won't keep the cat." There are enough wild creatures in this household, Johnny and Doyeon included. "It's best that she stays where she belongs." He reaches out and pets her, pulling a leaf out of her fur. "Don't you think so?"

John and Doyeon are both grumpy for the rest of the evening to varying degrees, but it's a lot more simple to appease a child. A Disney movie is enough. John is brooding the entire time Ariel finds true love, a dark cloud at Donghyuck's side.

"I didn't know you wanted a cat so bad," Donghyuck says, once the movie is off and they start putting the babies to bed. Dohee and their mother went to bed before the movie was over, but Dongseok would have started crying if they stopped the movie without knowing the ending, so they waited until the happily ever after to turn the television off. The twins were asleep already, but Donghyuck doesn't mind a happy ending either.

"It's not..." John sighs, picking up Dongseok gently enough that he doesn't wake up. Doyeon is like a rock and nothing can wake her, so Donghyuck slings her over his shoulder and follows the god down the hallway. "Isn't it nice to keep things?"

"If they're yours, I guess." Donghyuck yawns into Doyeon's hair. "There's a lot of things in the world you can't keep. Isn't that something time has taught you?"

"People don't take things from me," John replies, and it sinks into the earth like a threat. "As if they would dare."

"Sure, John." Donghyuck turns the door knob and enters the twins room. "You've never lost anything in your life."

John is quiet while Donghyuck tucks Doyeon into bed, already bathed and brushed before Ariel got her legs.

"Not anything important," the god says, after a long time.

Donghyuck takes Dongseok from him, because John seems frozen in the doorway, and John lets him. "Is time not important?" _Are 500 years so useless?_

"No."

"Your temple?"

"No."

"Then what's important to you?" Donghyuck asks. "Is there anything?" For a god, John has so little. Just a house and some children and a human that needs his help.

John is quiet. "Yes." He doesn't say anything else, even as the clock ticks and Donghyuck waits.

Donghyuck sighs, leaning down to kiss Dongseok's forehead. "Then you'd better hold on tight, I guess." He looks over at the god in the doorway. The clock keeps ticking. "Goodnight, Johnny."

"Goodnight." John's hand brushes against the hem of Donghyuck's shirt as he walks past, but Donghyuck shuts the door to his bedroom and is alone.

* * *

Donghyuck prefers the theater job to food running, and he vastly prefers it to bussing (although he enjoys bars quite a bit), but there are good things here. There's a community of people that he enjoys. Nayeon is a wild card, Seungyeon has good energy no matter what, and Seolhyun dotes on him no matter what. His shifts vary depending on who his shift manager is, but he likes most of them.

He likes the tips.

Sometimes customers drop an entire plate of chicken parm on his pants and he smells like cheese and marinara for a million years, and then he has to apologize even though he's pretty sure they did it on purpose, but other than that everything is fine.

"Are the babies with your friend again?" Seungyeon is asking him while she rings in her tables. "I don't think I could take care of three children, even for a good friend."

Seungyeon can barely keep her head on straight taking care of herself, so Donghyuck guesses that's a fair call, but Donghyuck feels the same way most of the time. "Jaemin gets along really well with them, but I don't think he could do it if they weren't mine." He laughs. "But no, they're at home."

"Your mom isn't working?"

"She worked this morning." Donghyuck's eyes flick to the clock. He hates not being able to wear a watch. It's his least favorite part of food service. "She'll be coming home soon, if she isn't already."

Seungyeon looks at him in alarm. "Who was taking care of the babies then? How old are they? Aren't they like, super young? Or did you just hire a babysitter?"

"Seungyeon, if you ring in this order wrong, I'll kill you," Jimin says when he comes back to return fresh rolls of silverware. "They'll yell at me. I'm delicate."

"Oh, you'll be fine." She reads over what she's rung in a second time and deletes an order before starting again.

"We just, uh...I guess he's a babysitter." Donghyuck rubs his neck. "He's nice. He gets along with them well."

"Well, good for you," Jimin says, even though he hasn't heard half of the conversation. "You and your mom deserve a break. Every time you come in you look like you're about to drop dead."

"I do not," Donghyuck snips, looking at his reflection upside down in a spoon.

"Not as much anymore," Seungyeon agrees. "You're full of life. Very youthful."

Jimin snorts. "You could still take it easier, but that's just my opinion."

"Wow, look at that." Donghyuck takes the ticket that Seungyeon just rang in. "A ticket. Gotta go."

"That's _mine_ ," Jimin whines, but Donghyuck runs with it anyway. It's the benefit of being one of the youngest.

Donghyuck likes shifts like this, busy, because the clock moves faster and he doesn't have to drudge through his orders. Still, there's enough time for him to slip away when he sees a call from his mom, and Seolhyun lets him take it while the kitchen prepares the next few tickets. "Hello?"

"Hyuckie," she says, and her voice sounds exhausted. "Sorry. I know you're at work."

"Is everything okay?" He's sure things are okay, because Johnny would probably destroy the neighborhood if it meant protecting the babies, and no one has said anything at the bar. "Everyone is okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine. I've got dinner waiting for you when you get home." She huffs. "I just can't find the bills? Did you move them from the side table?" There's the rustling of paper.

Donghyuck frowns. "No." He knows better to mess with the mail, unless he's paid them himself. "Maybe the twins messed with it? Ask Johnny."

"Oh." His mom puts her hand over the receiver — she does it every time, even though it doesn't really work — and Donghyuck hears her call for John in the other room. There's a mumbled conversation, and a big pause. "Oh," she says again, a little closer. "I...um. I guess it's fine."

"Did he know where they were?" Donghyuck asks. He checks the clock. He needs to get back to work, but the bills are due soon.

"Yes," she says, a bit short. "Sorry to call you."

"You're fine." Donghyuck rubs his forehead. "Where were they?"

"Well." She sighs again. "Sorry, honey. He paid them already."

Donghyuck brain grinds to a halt. "Oh." A long pause. "Can he do that?" Small.

"I guess." She laughs. "Sorry. I know that...makes you uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable." He's a little uncomfortable. The door to the main room opens and Seungyeon looks inside, waving a new ticket. Donghyuck needs to end the phone call. "Just, ah, make sure he did it right. He learned about Google from Doyeon."

"Understood — no, John, it's fine." Donghyuck can hear John apologizing. "It's fine. Look — Donghyuck, I should go. Have a good shift. I love you."

"Okay." Donghyuck clears his throat. "Love you, too."

The call ends.

Donghyuck scrambles to grab the orders and make his way into the main dining room. He's able to do it on autopilot these days, his brain running wildly, and he asks the bartender to get table 17 another sangria before he heads back and grabs his next ticket, but he doesn't remember much else.

"Seungyeon," he asks later, while she's dividing up her cash tips. "Have you ever had a sugar daddy?"

She stares at him, half a second, and then she laughs. "Hyuck, if you have a sugar daddy, you should be asking Jimin. I'm pretty sure that's how he got through college."

That's fine, except Jimin kind of terrifies Donghyuck. "I don't even know if I have a sugar daddy." He slams his head on the table with a groan. "Is it supposed to feel so weird?"

"I don't know, man." She hums. "Is he like, super old?"

Donghyuck laughs hard; he can't help it. "He looks pretty young." True enough.

"Is he hot?"

Dangerous territory but — "yes." Donghyuck swallows. "I think he just paid our mortgage."

Seungyeon's eyebrows disappear beneath her bangs. "Oh, baby." She licks her fingers, counting bills. "Keep him."

* * *

Donghyuck gets back from work too late, and he slips into bed too late, and his brain runs and runs and runs and runs until he falls into fitful sleep. It doesn't last. On nights like this, sleep never lasts. It's something that Donghyuck has to chase until he's so frustrated he gets out of bed for the sun and finds something to do.

An hour, wakes up, another two hours, awake for ten minutes, and then the horrible wash-rinse-repeat of spotty insomnia.

The light outside his window is hazy pink and not quite golden. Donghyuck has sunk into his mattress until his bones are the coils and his brain is the cotton, but there's a thread of static in the background that holds him to awareness. His mouth is dry. The clock reads too early. The baby is still sleeping. Mother hasn't left for work.

With a groan, Donghyuck sits up. In the mirror his hair is a rat's nest. Pearls glitter on the dresser. He smacks his lips. He doesn't work today. He has time for a nap later, probably, if he can't get back to sleep. He knows when he looks outside that he won't get back to sleep without some help, and nothing every truly helps.

In college, Donghyuck was a night owl, but he's grown to love the mornings. There's something simple about the starting over. Necessary, even.

He stands up and stretches and waddles into the hallway. He flips the hallway light on so he doesn't trip over children's toys. His mother will be waking up soon, and Dohee, and the twins will follow shortly after because being grumpy in the mornings is a learned trait. Not for the first time, Donghyuck wonders where his god stays.

That first harrowing night, John had clung to Donghyuck's shirt and they'd shared his tiny bed. There are so many things that hang in Donghyuck's mind about that night — the rain, and the digging, that hand reached up from the ground, _are you real?_ — and by the time Donghyuck dragged his body home, everything bleeds. He remembers bathing, and lullabies, and that tired and desperate hand. He remembers sleeping like he would never wake up. He remembers the exhaustion.

Johnny has not returned to Donghyuck's bed. He supposes that's alright, even if it does leave questions.

Donghyuck pulls a glass from the cabinet and rubs his eyes. The only light is from the digital clock on the microwave and the sun rising gently up through the window. Something dim spills over from the hallway but it's hardly more than a memory. There's no rice yet. Donghyuck's mother still puts it out, even though it makes the birds fat. He doesn't think she does it for the gods. He thinks she does it for her mother, and Donghyuck can't blame her. He misses her.

The water is almost too cold, sharp. It wakes him up but not enough. Tired. Full of sand, but empty still. Too full for thought.

Donghyuck puts his glass down on the island. The front door is cracked open and dawn walks in. Odd.

He isn't wearing socks and his feet are cold on vinyl, but he trudges forward anyway. Did he forget to turn the lock? He wishes he'd brought his slippers down. The wood in the foyer is also cold, and his bones are too heavy to hop onto the rug like he used to as a child. The way Dongseok does because he hates socks.

Outside, something creaks. Donghyuck pauses before he closes the door.

"What is he doing out there?" Donghyuck asks the open air, when he peers through the glass door and sees John rocking in the light of dawn.

The concrete of the porch is warmer but rough on the bottoms of Donghyuck's feet. He barely notices anymore, slipping out onto the welcome mat and pulling his hoodie tighter around the middle. A rook sits on the ledge, watching the glint of the sun off the glass windows. It's too cold. Donghyuck wants the sun to hurry up and rise, but only one of the people in this household has any say in the matter, and John seems content to wait.

"Good morning, Johnny," Donghyuck says, and John opens his eyes gently.

Fond. "Good morning." The black cat is sitting in his lap, the only one of them following the law of the universe and sleeping at this time of night. Her tail curls around John's wrist. The creaking of the rocking chair is a steady rhythm. John's smile is soft and steady, sleepy. Donghyuck wants to run his hand through the god's hair, but that's a fleeting thought. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"Tried and failed." Donghyuck shoves his hands in his pockets. The wind is chilly against his bare legs. "Don't gods also need sleep?"

John rumbles, and it takes a moment for Donghyuck to realize it's a laugh. Everything about this creature is so large, so beyond imagining that he has trouble finding the borders, but in this moment John is contained. Quite small, fighting nicely in an old chair with an old cat and a new day; like a dream.

"Gods don't need to sleep much," John says. The crow sings.

Donghyuck hums, sinking into the free chair. His legs are covered in goosebumps and his eyes are glued shut with sand. "How much sleep do gods need, then?" He leans his head over, and when he opens his eyes John is inspecting him closely. "In a week, what do you need? An hour? A day?"

John looks at the cat in his lap. "It's hard to say."

"Bullshit," Donghyuck laughs. "You can't live for millennia and say that to me."

"I've never been able to sleep well."

"Ah...I remember." Donghyuck closes his eyes again and turns his face to the sun. "Lavender?"

That rumbling again, and something even softer. "Lavender. It's been a while since someone gave her to me."

"When was the last time you slept?" Donghyuck purses his mouth. It's going to be a cloudy day. Donghyuck can feel the light and dark of clouds passing by even with his eyes shut. "Surely you can sleep without lavender."

"The last time...with you?" John pauses, thinking. The cat meows and John rubs his fingers on the crown of her head. "Before that...much longer."

It's hard to work through things in the morning. Donghyuck is running on very little, but there's enough there for him to grasp. "That was over a week ago."

John smiles and it's humorless. "Yes."

"Is that why you haven't..." _come back to bed._ Donghyuck bites his lip and stifles the thought. "You were asleep when I found you."

Donghyuck has never seen this god look so bitter. "No." John stares past the sun into the mountain. "It's been many years since I slept." And another smiles, still empty. "Although I slept for a long time."

"Don't tell me you were down there and aware of it all," Donghyuck says, mostly in disbelief, but he thinks he might be begging. "That's too cruel, even for the universe."

"She can't love everyone all the time, Donghyuck." John bites his lip, his eyes falling and falling until their at his own feet. "You of all people know that."

"She's never loved me," Donghyuck says. It's the sad truth, and even John's sharp look can't make him take it back.

"You're handsome and talented and hardworking and have a beautiful family," John says, like he's prepared the list in advance, but it all feels muted when it covers Donghyuck. "You want me to believe she doesn't love you?"

Donghyuck pushes his feet through the dirt collecting on their porch. The crow caws again, and more birds twitter in the distance. The world is waking up, but Donghyuck is so tired. "I have a beautiful family," he agrees, "with no future. I've found a god, but who is to say that was the universe's love?" He smiles dully at John. "But maybe she's been more merciful to me than to you." Stuck underground for half a millennia, and aware enough to wait.

John looks over Donghyuck's face, his tired figure, and says, "She's been cruel, but there's kindness too. She sent me a savior."

"Me?" Donghyuck rolls his head back and smiles at the sky. "Maybe that's the cruelest of all, hmm? A silly human with nothing to give you."

"You don't even know the things you have to give." He looks so pretty in the early light, so earnest, and Donghyuck could map out the planes of his face over and over. His eyes are so heavy. Donghyuck can't decide whether it's a comfort. It feels important, like the weight is worth it.

"Well." Donghyuck's throat is still dry, and the sun is still coming up, and his brain is still buzzing. He's too cold. He wants to sleep and isn't sure he can. There's variable after variable. He'll think about it more in the morning...later in the morning, when the sun is awake and can hold it over his head. "Let's start with a good night's sleep."

It's hardly nighttime anymore. That doesn't stop Donghyuck from standing up and holding out his hands. It doesn't stop Johnny from taking them.

The cat hops out of John's lap and jumps onto the railing, beside the crow, and they both watch Donghyuck pull John from his chair and lead him inside. John closes the door and locks it. Donghyuck turns off the lights and pulls Johnny by the hand.

His room is the same as he left it; sheets rumpled and floor messy and those stupid pearls shining on his dresser knowing they don't belong there. When John walks through the doorway it feels different. The walls are closer. Everything is closer. The god is hesitant, and Donghyuck himself collapses atop the mattress they've already shared.

For two breaths John lingers, unsure, and Donghyuck holds out a hand for the second time tonight. "You haven't slept in so many days." He frowns, fingers flexed, and wonders how tired a man could be with so little. "Don't you need to rest? Don't you want it?"

"Want..." John takes a slow step forward, eyes on the rising sun outside Donghyuck's window. "Since I've woken up...things are so different now."

"You still can't sleep."

"Well." A wry grin, and one knee of Donghyuck's mattress. "Some things never change."

"I've already changed some things, surely." Donghyuck flops back on his pillow, hand still reaching. "I can change one more, can't I? Am I allowed?"

There's nothing more to be said. With a quiet gentleness and surprising purpose, John pulls back the covers and slips between Donghyuck's sheets. The bed is too small for him, was too small the first time, but he curls into Donghyuck's side. For a moment, he hovers. "Can I?"

Donghyuck closes his eyes. Maybe he can go back to sleep after all. "I don't care. Do what you want."

Rustling and weight, and Johnny's head heavy on the center of Donghyuck's chest. Arms wrap around him. "Is this...good?"

"Mmm." Donghyuck runs a tired hand through John's hair, like he's been wanting to. The early morning is quiet. She's waiting, Donghyuck thinks, for them to fall back into sleep. "It's good." He likes being held. He likes the weight.

Donghyuck isn't sure whether John sleeps or not — do gods sleep at all? It feels like John never answered. It doesn't matter. The rhythm of running fingers through hair, the weight of being held, the feeling of this man squished onto his tiny bed. It all winds together and creates something soothing. Perhaps more than anything that's all Donghyuck needed.

"Are you awake?" Donghyuck remembers asking, as the clock strikes the hour.

The only response is breathing.

Donghyuck breathes, and sleeps, and rests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Honey, ask me, I should know_  
>  I slithered here from Eden  
> Just to hide outside your door 


	5. share in evenings cool and quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you always...everywhere? Is nothing what it's supposed to be?"
> 
> There's a hand on his head, and Johnny brushes his bangs off of his forehead. He's looming, but he smiles, and Donghyuck isn't sure how to feel. "How exactly is the world supposed to be?"
> 
> Donghyuck swallows thickly. "Normal."
> 
> "Things have always been this way." Soft. John sits on the arm of the chair and he still looms. Donghyuck sinks deeper. "What is normal?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright guys so fun fact I started writing this chapter before I even posted chapter three. and was still working on it when I posted chapter four. and in fact only finished it like two days ago because it ended up being 20k so I split it up lmao
> 
> [playlist thread](https://twitter.com/fuIImarks/status/1241845934381838337?s=20) for this au!

This is the true beginning of their time together — Donghyuck admitting to himself that John does not frighten him the way wildness should, and John holding on too tightly until they both fall asleep.

"What exactly do gods do?" Donghyuck asks quietly, in the dim light of the morning. "So far all you've done is take care of my siblings." There's a body warm behind him and breath on the back of his neck, and it's comfortable enough that Donghyuck never wants to move.

"I can do whatever I want," John replies, his voice a little thick with the morning. "Isn't that what you people say? Is that the phrase?"

Donghyuck hums into his pillow. "I do what I want."

"Yes." John laughs a little. "That."

"It still rained while you were away," Donghyuck says, after another long moment. He's not certain if this is a sore topic, but John has never truly shied away from anything. Taking care of the children, learning about the new world, pressing himself into Donghyuck's life. The only thing that John has not fully grasped with both hands seems to be Donghyuck himself — he still hovers in a way that feels like waiting — but that's easy to forget when they're so close and it's so quiet.

"I am not the rain." The god says it so softly that Donghyuck isn't sure he's heard correctly. "I guide the rain, but the rain exists without me. The storms exist without me."

"Then what..." Donghyuck rubs his eyes. His body is waking up now. He should get up and make everyone breakfast. "What do you do?"

"The storm wants to rage." Johnny throws his hands over his head and takes a deep breath. "I give the rain power and purpose." He pauses. "I can use it to destroy, if I'd like. I can use it to heal, if that's how I feel. The rain cannot do that by itself, but she'll still fall."

Donghyuck sits up, rolling his neck, pop pop pop. "So you're not necessary?"

"No." John looks up at his hair splayed out over Donghyuck's pillow. He smiles. It's sleepy. He looks like a dream. "There are plenty of good things that aren't necessary. The rain falls without a god, but a god exists to help the rain. There will always be a god."

With delicate hands, Donghyuck plucks his glasses off the side table and squints into the morning light through his window. "The storm destroyed plenty, even without you. She raged fine."

"I...am meant to both control the storm and enable it, as I see fit. But I could never stop her, not completely." John closes his eyes, at peace. "I'm a wild god. I would not stop her, even if I could. That's not my place."

John can level mountains. John can destroy countries. John can do all sorts of things that Donghyuck is afraid to ask about.

"Could you kill someone?"

"Yes." Eyes still closed.

"Could you level a city?"

"Yes."

"Have you?"

Eyes open, amber. The light shines on his face. There are dark circles under his eyes, but he's not as pale as he was when Donghyuck first saw him. He looks alive. "I have." A small, morbid part of Donghyuck wants to ask more questions. Johnny seems to hear them, even without the words. "It was cathartic, at the time."

Donghyuck isn't sure why he is asking. He stretches his back. "Why?"

John smiles. "Because sometimes I also want to rage."

Goosebumps. "Only that? Is it so simple?"

"I was younger...and heartbroken." Johnny rubs his eyes and sits up, his legs tangled in Donghyuck's sheets. "I'm very old now. I don't have the energy to level cities anymore." He smiles at Donghyuck. "Unless you ask me to. I think I would, if you asked."

"If you leveled my city, I'd cry." Donghyuck laughs. This is too early for this kind of conversation. "I don't need any leveling."

"I keep waiting for you to tell me what you need," John says. His hand reaches out and brushes against the bare skin of Donghyuck's knee. He's warm. It's early. Donghyuck wants to go back to sleep and knows he can't. "Do you know what you need?"

For a moment, Donghyuck stares at the hand, and then at his god, and then into the mirror. He looks the same as he did when he went to sleep. He looks the same as he did before he dug something incredible out of the ground. He looks the same. "The world is so big and it's hard. I have people to take care of. But now that I have the help all I can think of are small things."

John breathes. "You dug me up to save you."

And god, at that moment, that terrifying moment, all Donghyuck had been thinking of was the saving.

Donghyuck looks at himself in the mirror, too closely, inspecting his face to find any cracks. _Are you real?_ Is he dreaming? "If all I asked for was...small things forever, what would you do?"

There's a hand on Donghyuck's shoulder. "Humans are small," John says, and Donghyuck melts under the touch. The god looks at Donghyuck's face in the mirror as well, and their eyes meet, and Donghyuck looks away because there's too much there. "The world is big, and there are an infinite number of needs. Every day is a new day. I will do small things and save you in small ways, and whenever you need a big thing, I will do that, too." His thumb digs into the hard muscle at the back of Donghyuck's neck. "I am devoted to you."

That does not feel like a small thing.

"Will you make my mother happy?"

A beat of silence. "Of course."

Donghyuck's head hangs as that thumb rubs circles into the tension of his shoulders. "Will you make sure my siblings have good lives?"

"You don't need to ask me."

"Will you..." _Can I have a good life, too?_

The hand pauses, and then John comes closer and wraps his arms around Donghyuck's middle, his forehead on the nape of his neck. "Yes." John's breath is hot, even through the cotton of Donghyuck's shirt. "Anything you want, I will."

Donghyuck is still staring in the mirror. He holds up a hand. "Pinky promise."

Gently, John reaches over Donghyuck's shoulder and links their fingers together. "Pinky promise." Goosebumps and a smile. "Dongseok taught me that one."

This is the true beginning of their time together.

* * *

Things change in small ways, as promised. Donghyuck's mother stands a little straighter, glows a little more. She complains about her back hurting less. She's less exhausted after shifts. She's recognized more.

Donghyuck wonders if John is channeling whatever he does towards his mother because John knows that's what matters most to Donghyuck, but Donghyuck also feels different. He doesn't know if he'll ever glow, but he's close. He laughs with his babies more often. He has a clearer mind. The air smells better, but perhaps that's all in Donghyuck's head.

There are some ways that Donghyuck has changed for the worse. He is always off-balance. Sometimes his heart races so fast he thinks he's about to die, and sometimes his brain runs in circles for what feels like hours. He feels so good at times and then feels horrible the next — not horrible but...off.

John has taken to sharing his bed most nights, although Donghyuck sincerely doubts the god sleeps as much as he says he does. The mattress is small and Donghyuck feels him laying beside him, and listens to his even breathing until Donghyuck himself falls asleep. But in the morning, John is always awake first, and closer than he was before. Donghyuck isn't sure whether the god gravitates towards him or the other way around, but he's only human and can't judge himself for what he does while he's sleeping.

Some days, Donghyuck wakes up and John is sitting at his desk staring out the window, feeding rice to the crow on the windowsill.

"She led me to you," Donghyuck says, voice thick with the morning. He rubs his eyes and sighs, small, and he smiles at the ceiling.

"I know," John replies, quiet, and he smiles at Donghyuck. His hair is a disaster and his cheeks are rosy. "I'm grateful."

Donghyuck thinks about the shovel standing tall on the mountain where he left it. He thinks he's also grateful. He pulls the covers over his face and tries to fall back asleep.

John is a distraction; a horrible, beautiful distraction. Donghyuck can't think when John is around. Donghyuck can't _anything_ when John is around.

"I want to meet him," Jaemin says over the phone for the nth time. Every time they talk to each other, it seems like Donghyuck's new roommate comes up. He supposes that's fair — it's definitely a novel topic. "He sounds hot."

Donghyuck is doing his best to ignore this fact. "I never said that." Donghyuck knows he's never admitted that aloud. He flicks a look over at John through the kitchen window, where he's wrestling in the dirt with the twins. "I know I never said that."

"It's just the way you talk about him." Jaemin laughs on the other end of the line. "I dated you for how long? I know what you sound like when you're thirsty."

"Goodbye forever," Donghyuck says darkly, and Jaemin just laughs at him. He hates being friends with people for this long — they know you too well. "I'm not thirsty!"

"Sure, Jan." Jaemin is grinning like an asshole, Donghyuck knows. "I mean, he's a god, right? I'm sure they're all beautiful...oh fuck, wait, are there more gods?"

Donghyuck thinks of Sicheng, the smooth planes of his face and the line of his mouth. "Yeah, they're all beautiful, I think."

Quiet for a moment. "Damn. Can I get one?"

"Where are you gonna keep them, Nana?" Out the window, John throws Dongseok up in the air like a ragdoll. They're both beaming, matching grins. John looks like a kid, like someone Donghyuck might know. "You already have Mark on your couch. You gonna kick him out?"

"For a god? Out he goes. All Mark does is eat my noodles and listen to music… He's eye candy though, I'll give him that, until he opens his mouth."

Jaemin does like Mark, he can't convince Donghyuck otherwise. Jaemin is polite but he's cold when he needs to be, and he would have no problem getting rid of a freeloader he couldn't tolerate.

"Uh...next time I bring the babies over, I'll let him come along," Donghyuck says after a moment. John is doing much better talking to people these days, but right now he is only practicing on their neighbors, and Granny Lim is very friendly but she's also very peculiar. It probably wouldn't be such a bad thing to expose John to more people.

"You haven't brought the babies over in _months_ ," Jaemin whines. "You dumped me for the new nanny. Just bring him over on your next day off! I'll make lunch! We can reminisce about middle school! We can explain to him what middle school is."

"I don't know..."

"Donghyuck." Jaemin isn't laughing anymore. "You've had a strange man in your household for a few weeks now." Has it really been so long? "You talk about him like you're three steps from falling in love with him. You say he's a god. I want to meet him. I care about you, I need the peace of mind."

Processing happens very slowly given the sudden shift in tone, but there's one thing Donghyuck's brain latches onto like a vice. "I am _not_ three steps from falling in love with him."

"Really?" Unimpressed, and Donghyuck's heard that tone from Jaemin too often. "That's all you took from that?" A heavy sigh. "I'm worried about you. I feel like things are changing and I don't have a good grasp on it. I just..."

"You always worry about me too much," Donghyuck says softly. Jaemin has stuck by him through everything, always worrying.

"Don't tell me not to." And that's that.

Donghyuck doesn't really start having regrets until he loads John into the car a couple of days later and realizes he's not sure how this will go. "Just...be nice.

John's legs are too long for the passenger's seat. The first time he'd been shown how to move the chair back is branded in Donghyuck's brain, and it's all he can think about now at the soft whirring of the chair as John stretches his legs out. "I'm always nice."

"Yesterday on the bus you almost bit that man's finger off."

"He was staring at you."

"So do you," Donghyuck says, raising eyebrows, flexing his fingers on the wheel until John puts his seatbelt on and he pulls out of the driveway. "I'm not going to bite _you_ , am I?"

John is very quiet.

"I'm not going to bite you," Donghyuck reiterates flatly, because he feels like that needs to be established.

It's an oddly tense drive.

"Jaemin is just a friend?" John asks, watching the road pass by out the window. His eyes hang on the store windows and the mailboxes and light poles. It's hot outside. John's hair is tied up low at the base of his neck, and he looks less like a wreck that he used to. His pants fit too well. They found a few shirts at the thrift shop that fit, a little worn and homey.

Eyes on the road. "Yes, he's a friend. A very good friend."

"Hmm."

"Stop that."

John quirks a smile at Donghyuck. "Stop what?"

Donghyuck bristles. "The...you know. You know what you're doing. Brooding! Stop."

"Are you nervous?" John sings, biting his lip through a smile.

"No." Donghyuck taps his thumb on the wheel while waiting for the light to change. "Why would I be nervous?" He's nervous. He's so nervous. He feels like he's going to bubble over and make a mess.

John leans over, too close, with that shit-eating grin and his hand on Donghyuck's thigh. "I don't know why." He smells like Donghyuck's shampoo. "I'm always nice."

Donghyuck huffs, flaring red. "Oh, fuck off."

John is still laughing when they pull into Jaemin's neighborhood.

The closer they get to the house, the more the feeling shifts — somewhere in the middle Donghyuck catches his breath before it's quickly squashed again. John moves from teasing to confused to heavy like a hammer, and Donghyuck's heart lurches accordingly. "Don't scare him away," Donghyuck chastises. "I like Jaemin."

"Hmm," John says again, and it's not reassuring. The tight line of his mouth makes no promises.

"Just remember," Hyuck chides, putting the car in park and shooting John a sharp look, "I didn't murder _your_ friend."

The grin is worth it.

John is strung taut like a wire as they walk up the porch, but it's in that way John is where his jaw is set and his body is relaxed and his aura fights for him. Like if something happened he'd be prepared for anything. His hands are shoved in his pockets and his eyes are narrowed.

He looks like an animal, waiting for prey.

He's looked that way before. He used to look that way all the time, whenever he looked at Donghyuck. It still gets under Donghyuck's skin. It's still not something Donghyuck understands.

Donghyuck rings the doorbell and bites on his lip. Today will not go as planned, no matter what, so he's doing his best to limit expectations.

Jaemin only looks perky in the morning when he has plans, so by the time he opens the door for them he looks like an angel. His hair is brushed and his shirt is clean, and when Donghyuck peaks past him the floor of the living room is clear. It's a herculean task these days to get Jaemin to clean. He only does it when his parents are stopping by, or whenever there's a god on his doorstep.

He smiles bright. "Good morning." His apron says _Kiss the Cook_ and it has a curvy woman's body in a bikini on the front. He wears it to be smart. Donghyuck got him the present for their first anniversary.

Donghyuck snorts. "It's almost one o' clock." Doyeon likes John too much and they'd had a problem getting her to let go of his leg — Donghyuck is learning that John is useless against a pretty smile, and Donghyuck can only put his foot down so much.

Only once Donghyuck smiled prettily and reminded him of their schedules did John release Doyeon back to her mother so they could leave.

If pretty smiles were John's only weakness, he's putting up an incredible resistance against Jaemin, who has one of the prettiest smiles Donghyuck has ever seen. It doesn't help that Jaemin is laying it on so thick, but the insincerity of it rolls off in waves. He looks at John through narrowed eyes, smile plastered on, and lets his gaze roam lecherously. Donghyuck usually thinks Jaemin's antics are harmless, but the square of his shoulders feels more like an animal about to challenge a rival.

Donghyuck runs his hands through his hair. "Aren't you going to invite us in?" he asks. It's too early for things to be this tense.

"Oh, right." Jaemin steps out of the doorway, but his eyes never leave the god. "Do you need like, permission to enter or something?"

"I'm not a vampire," John says evenly, stepping into the threshold. He looks at the paintings on the walls and the clean floor of the living and over Jaemin's head, because he's tall and he can. "I could introduce you to one, if you like."

"He's kidding." Donghyuck isn't sure if John is kidding — they haven't really broached the _supernatural beings_ topic beyond the bare minimum — but he pushes Johnny past Jaemin and into the kitchen rather forcefully. "This is Johnny, by the way. He's great."

The man holds his hand out, very cordial. "Call me John." A smile. Like a businessman.

Jaemin's parents are rich enough that formalities aren't intimidating. Jaemin's also stupid enough that immortality isn't enough to deter him. "That's a white man's name." He does not take John's hand.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. "I'll go home right now, I swear to god."

"Don't go home." Jaemin gives John one more once over and flutters his eyelashes. "I'll be good."

John laughs.

Truthfully, Jaemin is one of Donghyuck's most important people. He has a small list of favorites — his family, Renjun, Granny Lim — and Jaemin in particular has been on the list so long that Donghyuck forgot when he wrote the name. If Jaemin and John don't get along…

It's weird that Donghyuck doesn't know what he'd do. The choice should be clear.

Donghyuck makes his way into the kitchen and starts setting the table. There's stew on the stove, shimmering, and it smells sweet and spicy the way Donghyuck likes. Between the two of them, Donghyuck is the better cook, if only because he has more practice and more mouths to tell him when he's done a bad job. Jaemin is an _open a pack of hotdogs at three in the morning and put them in your leftover mac and cheese_ kind of cook, but he knows what he's doing when it gets down to it.

Still. "Running a little behind?" Donghyuck asks with a laugh, pulling bowls out of the cabinet. Nothing is set and the stew isn't quite done. There's bread warming in the oven and vegetables still drying in the sink after a wash.

"Not my fault." Jaemin stirs the pot and leans back on the kitchen counter. "Mark fucked up all the laundry this morning. That was a time and a half. Now he's out buying new underwear."

Donghyuck laughs again, turning around with the bowls in his hands, and is stopped short by John just behind him. The god takes ceramic in his hands and makes his way to the kitchen table. "Mark?"

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. "My couch surfer."

Donghyuck is almost certain John has no idea what that means, but he's too busy trying to catch his breath to tell Jaemin as much. "Mark sleeps on Jaemin's couch and doesn't pay rent."

"He's just like you," Jaemin says, smirking.

John frowns. "I don't sleep on the couch." He's bizarrely focused on the placement of the bowls, black pink green, and then he looks out into the living room, nostrils flaring. He really does look like a wild animal. "So I can't be a...couch surfer."

Jaemin looks at Donghyuck, flat, and then at John, and Donghyuck knows exactly what Jaemin is expecting. "Then where do you sleep?"

Johnny smiles and doesn't answer.

Donghyuck can't handle the raw judgement on Jaemin's face. He tosses spoons on the counter without looking and says, "he sleeps with me." Not quite shameless, if the way his cheeks are warming up means anything, but as close as he can get to it.

"Interesting." Jaemin smiles and it's dangerous. "You never told me that."

"Does it matter to you?" Donghyuck asks, sugar sweet. He's played this game with Jaemin before. He knows if it comes down to it, he'll lose, but he'll stand his ground. "It's not like we have an extra room."

"You have a _couch?_ " Jaemin offers, innocent.

Donghyuck does not really want to go into the fact that John was not sleeping anywhere, not even the couch, and he doesn't really know if John sleeps now either. He thinks the god might rest, but he's not sure where that shifts into actual sleep. All Donghyuck knows is that he himself falls asleep and wakes up in one piece, and Johnny is almost always the first person to say good morning.

John is staring hard into Jaemin's profile, jaw set. It's strange. This is the intense, brooding creature that Donghyuck originally dug up, but lately John has been playing much more human. Donghyuck hasn't seen that look in his eyes in several days — not to say the god isn't intense, but that the focus is less feral. Less thirsty.

This John might destroy Jaemin, if allowed.

Donghyuck is not worried, because he will not allow it.

"How do you know each other?" John asks, once Jaemin sets the bowl of soup on the table and sits down. "You've known each other a long time?"

"Since elementary school." Jaemin is very stoic as he ladles out his own meal. "Well...I suppose that doesn't mean anything to you. Since we were maybe...nine?" He looks at Donghyuck for affirmation, but Donghyuck's mind is far away.

Specifically, Donghyuck's mind is staring at Johnny carefully spoon stew into his bowl. Even more specifically, he's trying to figure out why the line of distress on John's forehead is so deep. Sure, John has no reason to like Jaemin beyond the fact that Donghyuck likes him — although for whatever reason that seems to be a black mark in John's book — but that's isn't enough to set the man so on edge.

Jaemin smiles dryly. "Since we were nine," he affirms for himself.

John hums. "That's a long time for humans, isn't it?"

"It's long enough." Jaemin sucks on his spoon. "I'd ask how you met but…" Wicked. "I don't think I'd believe you."

There's something rumbling in John's chest; he sees the challenge for what it is. Jaemin has never been very subtle with his games because the rest of his personality is charming enough to get away with them, but there's a dangerous edge in the air that makes Donghyuck wonder if he'll really get his way. John does not like games unless they're his.

"Are you saying you don't believe me, either?" Donghyuck asks, eyebrows raised. He takes a slow sip of his water. He knows this stupid game, and he knows Jaemin is only playing it to be contrary, but he also knows Jaemin's goal — to be a nuisance. He won't go so far as to hurt Donghyuck. "You only mopped up my tears and doubted me? Lame."

Donghyuck counter attack succeeds in small measure. Jaemin looks properly chastised, but the energy Johnny radiates turns sharp and pointed.

"You cried?" His hand is white knuckled around his spoon.

Immediately, Donghyuck is aware he's made a mistake. He smiles wryly. "Just a little bit." A short laugh. "It was…" Judging Jaemin for not believing would make more sense if Donghyuck himself hadn't struggled with the same thing. "Immortality is a bit overwhelming."

There's no way the god can deny that. "Did I overwhelm you?"

Donghyuck picks at his meal. _Constantly._ "Can we talk about something else? I was just kidding, you know. Men need to cry every once in a while. It keeps us young."

He doesn't bother elaborating on the night on the mountain — his friend has already heard every iteration of it, and Donghyuck himself is exhausted just thinking about it. That bizarre buzzing, and the crowing of the birds, and dragging of the body, everything mixes together and drains Donghyuck of all energy.

"I've lived through many nights," John says instead, chin propped up on his hand. "I've seen several generations of humanity, and many strange things have happened. But I don't think I've ever been so...touched...as the night that we met."

Donghyuck almost chokes. "Touched? By what?"

John grins, almost teasing. Donghyuck hates him. "Devotion is so powerful, don't you think?"

"It's not like I was devoted to _you_ ," Donghyuck grumbles, slipping down in his seat to try and hide from prying eyes. He's tired of burning red. They both need to leave him alone.

"No," John agrees, and that's all. He sighs happily and eats and it's quiet, save for Jaemin thinking too loudly.

The door opens — "Honey, I'm home!" and a chirping laugh — and slams shut. There's the sound of someone slipping their shoes off by the doorway, and Donghyuck would recognize Mark's voice anywhere.

John slowly lowers his spoon and stares at the sound.

"Did you get your new underwear?" Donghyuck coos, because now that Mark is here they can pick on him instead.

He's still laughing, but the closer he gets to the kitchen the soft thud of his steps slows. "We have...company?" Mark asks.

John leans back in his chair, arms crossed. There's a smug look on his face that should not be attractive. He waits, and when Mark sticks his head through the doorway there's a violent hiss that makes Donghyuck jump.

"Hello, Minhyung," Johnny says. His eyes could cut steel, and the smile he gives is just as cutting.

"Well…" Mark coughs into his hand. "Fuck."

* * *

Gods are weird. To be honest, Donghyuck does not enjoy thinking about them. He likes to pretend that Johnny is just his new roommate that he picked up out of nowhere and no one will ever question him about. Every time John gets angry and the storm rolls in it's a brutal reminder, but Donghyuck is great at repressing things.

Or...Donghyuck does spend the better amount of his time thinking about Johnny, but Johnny himself has gotten much better at pretending to be harmless. Only sometimes does Donghyuck touch John's shoulder and feel energy buzzing under his skin. Only sometimes do John's eyes look like they're ready to kill. So in some ways it's easy to pretend, and in some ways it isn't.

But one god is enough to deal with. Donghyuck does not want to think about what that means in the great scheme of things.

Donghyuck does not want to think about Mark Lee being a god. He doesn't want to do it.

"Are you _sure?_ " he demands, staring at Mark sitting on the couch in the living room with his knees together, trying to sink into the cushions. "You're telling me Mark is a _god_ and I'm just supposed to believe you?"

"Look at this face." Jaemin cups Mark's cheeks in his hands, pulling skin until Mark looks more like a twelve year old at his grandmother's. "You're telling me this is a cosmic being?"

Mark whines, as he should, and swats Jaemin's hands away. "Fuck off." His cheeks are flaming red and he rubs the tension out of his own face. "We don't all look like..." He looks at John with furrowed brows. "Well."

Donghyuck snorts.

"Wild gods are different, anyway," Mark says, shoving his hands in his hoodie. He looks Donghyuck's age. Sure, sometimes Johnny looks like a human, looks like someone Donghyuck could know, but Mark doesn't look like he could be anything else. He looks like Mark. He can't... "They're a different breed, man, they...you know? The vibes. They're different."

Donghyuck huffs at him, eyebrows raised. "That was very informative, Mark. Thank you."

Jaemin is sitting on the floor of the living room, legs crossed, still eating his bowl of stew with wide eyes, but he knows even less about what's happening than even Donghyuck. Donghyuck recognizes the glazed look on Jaemin's face, like the only constant is the food he's shoving into his mouth with great focus. Spoon, chew, swallow, repeat. Breathe. John and Mark are the only ones that have any answers, and Mark is too busy trying to defend himself to say something Donghyuck wants to hear.

"Johnny?" Donghyuck looks at his god.

"He's right." Johnny is leaning against the wall, surprisingly calm, considering. His arms are crossed over his chest and his eyes are narrowed, staring at the scene before him, but he seems to find Mark's rant as funny as Donghyuck does. "Wild gods are older, settled into the earth. We don't...vibe the same." He laughs.

"You know," Jaemin whispers, looking at Donghyuck, "I get it. I really get it."

"Get what?" Donghyuck hisses, but Jaemin is already moving on to his next question.

"So you're a wild god? What's the difference?" He seems much more interested in the logistics of things, now that he's living with one. Donghyuck wonders if he'll try to swindle Mark out of his cosmic powers, or if Mark will move on to another couch now that the ruse is up.

Jaemin has been living with a god for so long — longer than Donghyuck, and no one knew. His stomach rolls.

"Origin of power," John says simply. "From the earth, or from man."

"Dude." Mark's eyes are big. "That's a good way to explain it. I never know what to say."

Mark is the god of..."Production," he explains. "My territory surrounds audio production, studios, recordings...not film so much, although I do have some ability."

"That's..." Donghyuck grimaces. That's isn't as interesting as Johnny, or as...Donghyuck won't say it's not as powerful because he doesn't know anything. He doesn't know a damn thing. "So what exactly do you do?"

Mark squints. "Didn't he tell you?" He gestures to John, running a hand through his hair. "We're just here to encourage progress. Things happen whether we're involved or not, when just give things purpose. Sometimes power. It's possible for someone to create something amazing without my help, I'm just a guiding hand."

"Gods seem more and more useless every day," Jaemin quips, rattling his spoon in his bowl.

John laughs.

Mark seems a bit flustered.

Donghyuck knows better than to believe that Mark is harmless, but…

"I'm not sure what you expected," Donghyuck tells him, rubbing away a headache, "when he loafs off of your internet and sleeps on your couch." He looks at Mark critically. "I can't believe I taught a god how to play Overwatch. I hate that."

"If it makes you feel any better, it was mostly Jaemin." Mark's eyes are wide. He looks so young.

"If you're really a god, shouldn't you have like..." Jaemin purses his lips, and there's a curl to the side of his mouth that tells Donghyuck Jaemin's trying to think of something nice to say — "savings?"

Mark pauses. His hair is sticking up like a bird's nest and his glasses make his eyes look huge. Donghyuck suddenly wonders if they're fake or if gods can have bad vision. "I've only been a god for a few decades. I've got some stuff but like...the economy tanks."

The gears in Donghyuck's brain halt. That just doesn't sound right. He looks at John very carefully, only to see that John is not looking back. "I thought...I mean, music production has been around for quite a while."

"I know." Mark frowns. " _I_ just haven't. I've only been around for about forty years."

"How is that possible?" Donghyuck demands. "There was no god before?"

"I had a mentor," Mark admits, picking at the stray threads of their couch. He's withering, not under Johnny's pressure but under Donghyuck's. "I just, uh, inherited it from her."

"You can do that?" Jaemin's mouth is dropped open. "You can...inherit immortality?"

"To a degree." John looks sad. His hands are shoved in his pockets and his jaw is clenched. "I remember your mentor. Hyuna. She's been...she's probably gone by now."

"Yeah." Mark swallows, rubbing his palms over his jeans like a child worried about getting the answers wrong. He watches nervously as Donghyuck collapses into the chair beside him. "She...trained me for a little bit, but. Yeah. She returned to the earth maybe ten years ago."

"Gods can't die," Donghyuck tells him flatly. That's the one thing he knows. John is incapable of dying. "He was buried alive half a millennia and he lived. What do you mean this woman returned to the earth'? She's dead? It's not possible."

Johnny takes a deep breath, standing up from where he leans, but he comes no closer. "Nothing is ever written in stone." His eyes are so far away. What is he thinking about? "When something new is created, a corresponding power is granted. There was no Hyuna before humans created the need. And now there is no Hyuna, because she handed it off to Mark."

There's something red creeping up Mark's face, something sad. "She knew when she took me in that's how she would end it." He laughs and it falls short. "She lived out the rest of her life well, though."

Donghyuck wants to sink into the couch cushions. "You're really a god?" he asks, small.

"I..."

"And you didn't say anything?" Donghyuck demands. Mark has been living here for months, almost a year. "My best friend has been living with someone who could kill him and nobody fucking knew?"

Jaemin blinks, like he's coming back to focus. "Hey, Hyuck, it's fine—"

"You haven't felt it," Donghyuck tells him. There's no way Jaemin has felt it, because if he had felt it he'd know. "You haven’t felt how heavy their power is." Donhyuck thinks about Sicheng touching his face. He thinks about...he's missing something. A woman. He is not able to think about Her, but She's there. "They're terrifying and one has been _hiding_ in your _house_."

"You're...are you serious?" Jaemin laughs, unsure. "You're kidding, right?"

"I'm not the only god in this room." Mark has his hands up in surrender. "You can't really think I'm more dangerous than _that_." He gestures towards John, stilling standing there.

Donghyuck sees red. "Don't talk about him like that," he snaps.

Thunders rolls outside the window, somewhere among the clear blue sky.

"Hyuck…" Jaemin looks sad. Is it because Donghyuck is tearing at the seams? Jaemin has always been too good at seeing the threads pull.

John is dangerous. Donghyuck doesn't know if Mark is dangerous but John has proven his own power over and over and it's supposed to be frightening but it isn't. Donghyuck is more frightened of this moment than he is of the storm. "How many of you are there?" Donghyuck asks. His face is burning. Why is this so much for him to fathom? He feels a bit like breaking. "Are you always...everywhere? Is nothing what it's supposed to be?"

There's a hand on his head, and Johnny brushes his bangs off his forehead. He's looming, but he smiles, and Donghyuck isn't sure how to feel. "How exactly is the world supposed to be?"

Donghyuck swallows thickly. "Normal."

"Things have always been this way." Soft. John sits on the arm of the chair and he still looms. Donghyuck sinks deeper. John's hand is head on his head. "What is normal?"

All Donghyuck wants is a reality he can hold in his hands.

He looks at John and thinks that's a fool's wish.

"Can we go home?" he asks. He wraps his fingers around John's wrist, not quite a vice. He doesn't need an anchor. There is no sea, just dry land that Donghyuck has trudged over for so long. "Let's...can we just go home."

It's quiet for a heartbeat. Jaemin is the first to respond. "I'll box up some leftovers for your mom. I know she hates cooking on her days off."

"Thanks." Exhausted. Donghyuck is so tired. "That's true." He doesn't want to cook tonight either.

"Alright." John stands tall, and the hand on Donghyuck's head reached out, palm up. "Let's go home."

* * *

"Mark's only been around for forty years," Donghyuck says after they've packed their nerves up and pulled out of the driveway. The thunder has stopped and the sky is clear. The car smells like the stew John holds in his lap. "You knew him already. You've been gone five hundred years."

Johnny likes looking out the windows too much, likes staring too much. He watches the trees flash by and chews on his answer. That's not what Donghyuck wants. "Gods are so big — they change everything around them. They settle into everything. In some ways, he also settled into you." He swallows, and Donghyuck bites on his own tongue. "I knew you were acquainted with a god that first night you brought the children back. I assumed it was Jaemin."

Donghyuck's hands on the wheel are too tight. The leather creaks when he lessens his grip. "But you knew his name." There were no assumptions. _Hello, Minhyung_ , and no answers because no one knows the questions to ask.

"He felt me in you first," John says. He breathes deeply, fingers tapping on the lid of their leftovers. "He was very careful not to touch you—"

"Why?" Donghyuck waits for the light to turn green, forgets to pump the gas until someone behind reminds him with a honk. "Am I your territory? Is that what it's like? Did you piss on me?"

John blinks, startled. "No. No...piss." He bites his lip. He does it so much when he thinks. "It's not voluntary. He avoided touching you so I wouldn't catch him, nothing more. He's settled fully into that house. All over the porch and foyer and your friend. I knew him the moment I touched the ground he ruled over."

Does John rule over Donghyuck?

"Or what he saw as his," Donghyuck says.

A long pause. "Yes."

Whatever ugly feeling is clawing in Donghyuck's stomach will not shut up. "It's exactly like piss."

John knows better than to answer.

Donghyuck cannot name the ugly feeling. "What about humans?"

"What about them?"

"Do we _settle?_ " Donghyuck asks, softer than intended. "Do you know me?"

Over the weeks, Donghyuck has gotten used to the weight of Johnny's staring, but he feels it. He feels the way Johnny's eyes move over his profile. He shivers. The leather creaks under his grip again.

When he turns his head, John is back to watching the trees.

"Humans are not so big. They don't change the world around them so completely. They're harder to know."

* * *

Donghyuck apologizes to both Jaemin and Mark in the morning. "I don't know why I got so angry," he whispers into the phone, trying to keep his voice from wiggling into John's ear. The god sits beside him, stirring sugar into black coffee.

"You don't?" There's a muffled noise, and Jaemin's voice seems a bit far away. "Are you sure?"

Honestly, Donghyuck has a lot of things going on right now. "I don't know what the world is doing these days," he admits. "I don't like the way it's changing."

"Oh, baby." Jaemin clicks his tongue and it's in time with Johnny's spoon against the ceramic of his mug. "Was the world really so kind to you before?"

None of that matters, now. Donghyuck puts it behind him. He takes a picture whenever they heat up the stew and sends it like a white flag, and Mark sends him a selfie with a thumb's up, and everything seems normal.

Donghyuck can think of other things.

The bills continue to be paid rather mysteriously. His mother tries to hide the bills when they come so he won't notice when they disappear, but she's always tried to hide them and he's always found them. He notices. Johnny seems to have limitless pockets — Donghyuck thinks that's rather fitting.

"How do you turn pearls into cash?" Donghyuck asks, flipping through papers he's about to shred. The extra body means the numbers have gone up, but there's no worry attached to the zeroes anymore.

John just plucks the papers from his fingertips and sends them through the machine. "I have plenty of connections." It should sound mysterious. John is too excited about using the shredder to be mysterious at this moment.

There are certain things that Donghyuck wonders, but he holds his tongue. An entire lifetime of minding his own business has trained him well; he will never understand all of John. It's better just to see him as he shows himself to be.

John is showing himself to be a bit of a hoverer.

"You're going out with the babies?" It's dinner time, and John had dutifully peeled potatoes like a pro. Donghyuck's mother is at work tonight, so it was their job to get the twins ready for school the next day. "Without me?"

"It's a field trip," Donghyuck argues, spooning Dohee's dinner into her mouth. She's doing well tonight — she barely needs the airplane. "They need chaperones. I signed up months ago." Before he'd even met his god. It feels like a lifetime ago.

John is sulking. "You're saying these words to me and I don't understand them," he huffs through a piece of potato.

"A chaperone is someone who tells you to sit down on the bus," Dongseok offers helpfully. He gives Doyeon one of his potatoes and Doyeon shoves all of her carrots onto John's plate when she thinks no one is looking.

"A field trip is a part of their lessons," Donghyuck says, trying not to laugh at his brother. He watches fondly as John stabs the carrots and sneaks them back onto Doyeon's plate while she barters Dongseok for more potatoes. "All of the children go out for a little...supervised adventure. They're going to the aquarium."

"We're going to see so many _fish_ ," Doyeon says passionately. She is so passionate that she eats the carrot John holds out on his fork without complaint. " _Fish!_ "

"Johnny," Dongseok asks, eyes wide. He's more talkative lately, and louder when he speaks. "Will there be mermaids at the aquarium?"

"I don't know," John answers easily, cutting meat with clumsy hands and feeding Doyeon another carrot in exchange for one of his potatoes. "I don't know what an aquarium is."

Doyeon is nearly beside herself. She loves explaining things to Johnny. "It's a—it's a big glass bowl!" She wipes her dirty mouth on the back of her hand and pushes her hair out of her face while Donghyuck grabs more paper towels from the counter. "They put the fishies in the water and they swim around glug glug glug and you can watch them! But don't touch the glass!"

Dohee laughs, clapping, and Donghyuck stands up to wipe up Doyeon's face while she rambles on about glass bubbles. "And why don't we touch the glass?" he asks.

Her face turns red with the effort of finding the answer. "Because...because it gets dirty!"

"No." Donghyuck bops her on the head. "Because it's loud! The fish don't like it."

"Like Nemo," Dongseok offers solemnly.

Donghyuck laughs. "Just like Nemo."

"So it's a place to view fish?" John asks Donghyuck, as the boy slips back into his seat and picks up Dohee's spoon.

"And other animals." Donghyuck nods. "It's very pretty, but the kids will be rowdy. They need a lot of help, so they reached out to the families to help control the classes." He doesn't mind. He enjoys the days he gets to spend outside of his usual routine.

John bites his lip, deep in thought, and asks, "do they need any more help?"

Donghyuck is surprised enough by the question that the god can pry the tiny spoon out of his slack hand and start feeding Dohee himself. "I...I mean I can ask? I don't think they need any more help."

"Eat," John says, nodding towards Donghyuck's rapidly cooling diner. "I would like to go. I've never seen an aquarium."

"You don't know what you're in for, with all the babies," Donghyuck warns him. He's done several trips like this, and it's a toss up for how he feels at the end. The twins have been on their best behavior since they have a guest in their house — and what's more, they like him — but things are already starting to fray and quite frankly they can be terrors. It took two hours to bathe Dongseok the other day. "Imagine thirty little creatures all crazy for fish."

Doyeon squawks, just like Donghyuck intended.

John focuses on spoon feeding Dohee for a heartbeat, maybe two. "I would like to go with you."

Well, there's no arguing that. "Okay." Donghyuck takes out his phone. "We'll ask."

The twins' teacher is very nice man named Jaehyun who is a disaster in the best of ways, and he's always happy for more help. "We already paid for the tickets, though," Jaehyun says, having answered Donghyuck's text message well past work hours. "He'll have to pay for his own ticket. Is that okay?"

Donghyuck looks at the strand of pearls on his bedside table. "Yeah," he agrees. "I'm sure that will be fine."

They pick out John's outfit for the day and John crawls into Donghyuck's bed almost too excited for sleep.

"You're lucky you don't sleep like a normal human." Donghyuck scratches his stomach and wipes toothpaste off of the corner of his mouth. "Some of us need our beauty rest."

John is leaning up against the wall, and he throws the covers back for Donghyuck to slip into bed. Donghyuck is very careful that they don't brush and he slides under the sheets, but there's no escaping it once the lights are off and he's comfortable. It's a bit dangerous, Donghyuck thinks, because he's been in a relationship before and he knows what it looks like. His legs touch John's and it buzzes.

"You're beautiful," John says simply. "Who needs beauty rest?"

Donghyuck laughs into his pillow, small and tired. "Quiet."

John's hair tickles Donghyuck's shoulder and their legs tangle but John keeps his hands to himself for the night. Donghyuck sleeps and sleeps well.

* * *

"God on a school bus." Donghyuck whistles. "That should be the name of my mixtape."

John rubs his temples. "What is a mixtape? Is it something horrible? I agree."

There are plenty of chaperones today, but that doesn't stop the combined classes from screaming as loud as they can on the ride to the aquarium. They'd arrived early that morning at the school, ready to help corral the children into something resembling order. Jaehyun had given Johnny a very appreciative look. "This is the new nanny?" he asked Donghyuck, eyebrows raised.

Donghyuck was still blushing when the bus pulled out of the parking lot.

John had been, understandably, extremely overwhelmed by the volume of the children. In part, it was made harder by the fact that they adored him. Even on the sidewalk in front of the school they'd decided he was a jungle gym, and the ride was spent trying to yell in his ear loudly enough to get his attention over all the _other_ yelling that was happening.

"It's because you're new and shiny." Donghyuck laughs behind his hand while he helps Jaehyun unload all the rascals from the school bus. Again, the children gravitate towards their new favorite chaperone, but there are a few that know Donghyuck himself is tried and true.

Donghyuck can't really blame them for being enamored; there's something very charming about this man.

Johnny herds the children into their respective groups and Jaehyun grins at Donghyuck. "Does he want my job? Can he do multiplication? He can have it."

"You're the only hot teacher in _my_ heart," Donghyuck replies, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand while the children are wrangled by John and the other teacher. Johnny is watching him and Jaehyun very carefully. He huffs when Donghyuck wiggles his fingers at him.

Later, after Jaehyun has left to talk to the bus driver, John strides across the lot to stand by Donghyuck's side. "I don't like him."

"For an otherworldly being you sure are predictable," Donghyuck tells him with a laugh. "Does he intimidate you?"

"Why would he?" There's no real reason that Jaehyun should intimidate Johnny at all, except for the fact that he's talking to Donghyuck. John's grumbling about it is enough of an answer.

"Gee," Donghyuck says cooly. "I wonder."

There is a pattern forming that is very difficult to ignore. John in general is very difficult to ignore.

The woman at the front desk is very helpful, despite clearly not knowing what to do with all the children screaming at her. Donghyuck can already tell he's going to have to talk Doyeon into letting go of Johnny and he can already tell she's going to scream.

"I want to see the sharks first," says one little boy, very loudly as Donghyuck helps him put on his wristband. Donghyuck can't remember his name — Taeyoung? Doyoung? Daehyung?

"We will definitely be seeing sharks today," Donghyuck agrees, knowing full well they're in the farthest room from the front and the docent will definitely be taking them there towards the end.

"Do we swim with the sharks?" Johnny asks, eyes round and innocent while he fumbles to put his own wristband on.

Donghyuck knows he's joking but; "If you try, I'll kill you." He snaps John's wristband in place quickly and jabs his fingers into John's side. "And don't give the kids any ideas."

Slowly over the weeks they've worked on bringing Johnny into the world, but there are a lot of people around and a lot of things to pay attention to, and Donghyuck keeps a fierce eye on the god to make sure nothing goes wrong. If Johnny throws a tantrum here, they're all doomed.

But there's nothing to worry about. Other than shooting Jaehyun questionable looks Johnny participates in the tour with the same fervor of the children. "Are there really sharks or was that to quiet the students?" John asks, as they stand by the penguins. His arm brushes Donghyuck's. He's standing very close.

"Yes, there are sharks." Donghyuck makes a face at him. "I don't lie. I've never lied in my life."

Dongseok turns around and shushes Donghyuck so violently some of the other children look back at the comotion. Donghyuck dutifully mimes zipping his mouth shut. Johnny laughs, too loud, and then continues learning about the penguins.

There's something incredible about this. Donghyuck just can't put his finger on it.

In many ways this is just another tour with an extra large, extra moody child to take care of, but nothing really starts falling apart until it's nearly lunchtime. Doyeon screamed when she was told Johnny could not hold her and only screamed more when she was reminded that Donghyuck has never held her at school functions. A child in the second group goes missing and is found wailing at the otter tanks with a staff member. It's Donghyuck who drags her back to the main group to eat her peanut butter sandwich with her friends, and Donghyuck who wipes her tears and brushes her hair out of her face, but it's the girl who realizes that something is horribly wrong.

"Why is there a cat here?" she asks, wide eyed and innocent. Her nose is still red and dripping, but beyond that she seems to be recovering swiftly.

"A cat?" Donghyuck replies, more focused on getting the snot off of her face then what she's saying. "Where is there a cat?"

"Right there." She points with a chubby finger.

She's right. There is, in fact, a cat sitting very proudly on top of a display column just behind them. Shameless, even. And what's worse is Donghyuck recognizes her.

It's Granny Lim's cat.

Well, John would say she's his cat now, but she's Granny Lim's cat and she's here in the aquarium and she should not be. The cat should not be here. "Go back to Mr. Jaehyun, okay?" Donghyuck tells the little girl. "He has your lunch."

The promise of food makes her forget all about the cat, but Donghyuck stares it down viciously. "How did you even get here?" he demands, like cats can talk back. Perhaps they can. It would hardly be the strangest thing he's experienced lately.

The cat does talk back, a plaintive meow. It's a warning shot, somehow. Donghyuck's hair is standing on end.

Donghyuck runs his hands through his hair. "Please go home." He has enough to deal with today, between the children and the god and all of the fish that this cat will probably try to eat. _Does Granny even watch her cats at all?_ he's thinking to himself frantically. _Why are they everywhere all the time?_

She does not listen to Donghyuck. She flicks her tail once, twice, and hops off of the display into the crowd.

With a heavy heart, Donghyuck heads after her.

How strange it is, that Donghyuck finds himself following creatures left and right. First the bird, then the god, now the cat.

For what it's worth, the other patrons don't seem to pay her too much attention. She narrowly avoids being trampled underfoot with the kind of agility that can only be feline, but there's not so much as a raised eyebrow. Perhaps she should be here despite everything.

They seem much less willing to allow Donghyuck through. The crowd pushes together into the tight spaces, the area becoming more populated as the sun rises and creating a wall that Donghyuck struggles to break through. He apologizes, steps on toes and pushes bodies until he can breath his own air again — just in time to see the cat walk into the next room.

Something feels familiar about this. He shakes the buzzing out of his ears and continues moving forward.

There's a voice behind him. Donghyuck turns and sees John striding through the crowd towards him. They're more willing to allow him to pass, like they can feel his energy. Donghyuck can feel it from across the room, can see it in the dark of John's eyes, and the people part like the sea.

"Where are you going?" John walks up to him, bearing heavy, eyes wild. He looks handsome, truly, in a way that's unapproachable.

"I'm…" Donghyuck looks over his shoulder into the next room. Just on the edge of his sight, he sees the cat waiting patiently for him. "I'm following."

Johnny holds out his hand. "Alright."

His palm is warm and dry when Donghyuck takes it, and they both continue to follow.

It isn't a fun game, despite how much enjoyment the creature seems to get out of it. She darts into bathrooms and around corners, always on the edge of their fingertips, and seems to disappear right when they think she's finally caught.

Johnny offers after a while. The clock is ticking. Honestly, Jaehyun can handle lunchtime with the help of the other chaperones, but Donghyuck won't say he doesn't feel a little guilty running around for no reason. The god's mouth is pulled tight, also bothered.

Donghyuck huffs, pulling his t-shirt away from his chest to let the air in. "Okay." He grimaces. "Honestly, how hard can chasing a cat be? I'm appalled."

Cats are mysterious creatures. They do whatever they want for however long they want to, and they don't care if you play along. Clearly, she has no intention of terrorizing the fish, but Donghyuck still can't bring himself to leave her to her own devices. If she wants to torment him, she will, but he'll catch her by the end of it — probably.

There's a soft sound in the next room; Donghyuck hears it over the murmuring of the patrons. He hears it over his own breathing and the sound of John humming quietly in his ear.

Then a quiet, "Oh?" Donghyuck hears that too. And it's a familiar sound.

Donghyuck steps forward and pushes the door open.

The room is quite dark. It's one of those exhibits meant to make the visitor feel like they're in the deep sea. Children are bustling around, spinning wheels and pressing buttons and giggling at the displays. Parents hover. Teenagers take pictures for their social media accounts and fall into each other.

Just in the center someone is crouched on the floor, picking up the wild creature with gentle hands.

Johnny laughs.

Out of everyone in this building, it's as though the cat does not exist to anyone but the three of them. Out of the three of them, she only allowed herself to be caught here, between them all.

"Spoiled bastard," Donghyuck huffs, shaking his head. "Why do I even put up with you?"

"Excuse me?" asks Renjun, cradling the cat in his arms. "Who are you calling a bastard?"

He's grinning, beaming even, and in the dark he still seems bright. He's always been that way, like he's burning a little from the inside. He looks like a mess, hair unbrushed and glasses perched on the tip of his nose, swallowed by clothing that's too large for him. There's a bag hanging across his chest. Delicate hands comb through fur.

"I was talking to the cat," Donghyuck clarifies, grinning back. It's been so long since they've seen each other.

"I suppose you'd be right either way." Renjun quirks his head to the side, smiling sideways. "What are you doing here?" He steps forward, bringing one arm around Donghyuck's shoulders, and just for a moment they sink into each other like old friends. "It's been weeks since we got lunch. You don't answer my calls anymore."

"I've been...uh…"

"What?" Renjun demands, sharp. "Cat got your tongue?"

"I've been busy," Donghyuck says plainly, clearing his throat. "I'm here with the school, though. They're doing a field trip." He looks at the supplies hanging out of Renjun's bag. "Art project?"

Renjun nods. "It's the only reason I have to get out of the house, most days."

"Well." Donghyuck snorts. "Not the only reason."

Renjun gives stomping on Donghyuck's toes a valiant effort.

Donghyuck laughs. He would never admit how happy he is to see Renjun — there's less baggage between them, nothing so heavy as Jaemin's worry, and they're closer than he and Jeno are. Renjun has been hanging around for such a long time.

"Oh." The laughing has sent Donghyuck slipping backwards, and he remembers John as soon as he feels the leveling hand on his elbow. "Wait. Johnny, this is Renjun." He tugs on John's sleeve and when he looks over at Renjun again, he can't help feeling slightly self-conscious. "Renjun, this is Johnny. He's…" Donghyuck looks back up and John and tries to find the words. It doesn't help that John is staring at him so closely, and has been since they first saw Renjun. "I thought we talked about the staring," he says quietly to his god. He smooths out a wrinkle in John's shirt and looks back at his friend. "He's staying with me for a while. He's helping around the house."

It's clear that this is an oversimplification. Renjun in particular is not convinced. "I see." He looks John up and down, mouth purses. The glasses make his eyes look huge. "I suppose you have been busy."

"And I see you've met the cat." It's imperative that they change the subject. John's hand is still on Donghyuck's elbow and truly he isn't sure if he'll survive being scrutinized by another friend. He's not sure that _Renjun_ will survive the scrutiny, if John's reaction to Jaemin means anything.

Although, for what it's worth, John seems more amused than anything.

"Only you would bring a cat to an aquarium," Renjun says, mouth twisted into a steady smile. His hands are still absently petting her, but her eyes are bright coins in the dark room, directed at Donghyuck. She looks rather smug.

There's no point in arguing that she came on her own. "Like you wouldn't want to wreak a little havoc."

"Maybe I would," Renjun agrees. "But I wouldn't lose her." He grins. "Havoc always seems to get out of hand when it's you."

Donghyuck laughs. "That's fair enough." And too true, recently. Everything seems like it's slipping out of his control. He's not sure if it was ever really in his control to begin with.

Carefully, Renjun steps forward, and it's John who meets him halfway, arms out to relieve him of his burden. The cat falls into place easily enough, purring like she doesn't know she's a menace. "Thank you," John says quietly. The cat is dwarfed by his hands.

"You're...ah, you're welcome." Renjun is more outgoing than Donghyuck but less social, and he steps back into his own space with a hesitant set to his shoulders. "Have we…?"

Johnny raises an eyebrow at him. "Yes?"

Renjun laughs after a moment, hands held out in front of him like a surrender. "Sorry. Never mind." He runs a hand through his hair. He's dyed it honey blonde and it suits him. Every time Donghyuck sees him Renjun is in better health, even if he swears that he's wilting. "We should all hang out sometime," he tells Donghyuck. "You, me, Jeno, whatever the other one's name is."

"I'll tell Jaemin you hate him."

Renjun sniffs, prim. "Thank you." And a soft, unsure smile. "You're more than welcome to come along, Johnny," he offers. "If you're still...helping around the house."

All of Donghyuck's friends are horrible in varying ways.

"I'd love to," Johnny says. It's so strange, he sounds so flat, but Donghyuck can tell he's holding back a laugh. It's there, in the corners of his mouth, locked away. The cat yawns in his arms.

"What are the odds?" Donghyuck marvels, as they make their way back towards where the students are eating lunch. Jaehyun hasn't texted Donghyuck in a panic yet, so he's assuming they haven't finished yet. "It's so weird to run into him." It really has been weeks. Donghyuck hasn't seen Renjun since before he climbed the mountain, and that was…

Nearly a month ago.

"The odds are very slim," Johnny agrees. "Perhaps not as slim as our cat making her way so far from home."

"No." Donghyuck bites his lips. "Perhaps not so slim."

"It is funny, though." Johnny grins, and the cat in his arms manages to crawl her way to rest on his shoulders. He towers over the other guests, but even handsome and hulking and hanging a cat over his shoulder the other patrons still pay little attention to them. "You say the universe doesn't love you?"

Donghyuck clicks his tongue. He did say that. "Yeah." The room is still buzzing, just a little.

Johnny hums, eyes far away. "If she does not love you, she sure pays you a lot of attention."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ง ˙o˙)ว


	6. a shame without a sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is there a name for the feeling of being shaken to the core and yet cradled carefully in place? Is there a name for the feeling in Donghyuck's chest when he wakes up, again and again, and feels like life has shifted just slightly to the left?
> 
> Is it good? Is it sweet? Is it something Donghyuck knows how to deal with?
> 
> Some answers are easier than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a little wonky because it was originally attached to chapter five but it's fine. it's here. we got there.  
> ROB MADE ME [ART](https://twitter.com/parselmunde/status/1251185098550120449?s=20) PLEASE CRY WITH ME  
> [here](https://twitter.com/fuIImarks/status/1241845934381838337?s=20) is my playlist for this au and [here](https://open.spotify.com/track/1Ac5BDsGUMQ3tsW2vnc52x?si=kAJ5hbjNQMSVBf7E60eufw) is the song i vibed to this chapter

**Renjunnie**

are you guys like together?

Who? Me and the cat?

ah okay i get it lmao  
good luck buddy

* * *

"So, we went to the aquarium together," John says.

The laundry machine is rumbling loudly in the other room and Donghyuck's hands are a bit sticky with congealed Tide. He shuts the door and muffles the sound. He presses his hands together until the skin stops sticking. "Yes." Beef is marinating in the kitchen and the whole space smells savory. The twins are at night classes. Mother will pick them up on her way home from the hospital. Donghyuck checks all his boxes and turns on the sink.

John folds towels and watches the news. "Was that a date?"

Water turns Donghyuck's hands a pretty pink. For a moment he forgets to adjust the temperature and allows the skin to burn. "Excuse me?"

The news anchor drones on about a traffic accident next town over. John continues folding towels into thirds. "Doyeon told me it was a date."

Doyeon is a six-year-old and the bane of Donghyuck's existence, but he's almost certain she doesn't understand romance beyond sharing fruit snacks at lunch. "Okay." He swallows, focused on working his hands to a lather. "Did she explain what a date was?"

John makes a soft sound. "She said it was when two people go out and spend time together."

Donghyuck laughs, just a little. The tension in his shoulders washes down the drain. "Well, she's not entirely wrong." He's still laughing as he dries his hands and throws the towel over his shoulder. "It's a little more...it's more than that."

"Alright." John looks at Donghyuck innocently out of the corner of his eye. "What is a date?"

"Uh…" Donghyuck scratches his neck and leans his hip against the counter. "It's when two people...or just like, I guess it could be more but...when people like each other romantically and set aside time to be together, just them." The hems of Donghyuck's sleeves are damp. He pushes them up his forearms, crosses his arms over his chest.

"That doesn't seem too hard," Johnny says, a small pile of towels in his lap. His legs are played out on the carpet floor. His eyes are wide, too innocent to not be planning something. "Do the people need to already be in a romantic relationship?"

"I guess not." Donghyuck likes dates. He's been on plenty, just for the fun of it. It's nice to be wanted when there's nothing to lose and little to gain. "Just like...interested." He frowns. "I guess it would be like a more casual form of courting."

"I'm familiar with courting," John says. "Are we courting?"

"Uh." Donghyuck can't help the surprise on his face. "Courting who?" That's a dangerous question to ask. He runs his fingers through the frayed length of the hand towel. "Not courting, dating."

"Alright." Johnny has this strange, plodding way of making points. It's almost stubborn, slow, more tortoise than hare — and nothing will make him stray, even Donghyuck's panic. "Are we dating?"

Donghyuck swallows, thick. "No." He scratches his neck. "Dating and going on a date is also different, but…" Honestly, discussing the complexities of modern romance wasn't something he'd expected to be doing today. Doyeon is going to get a scolding for putting this in John's head.

"Which one comes first?"

"Going on a date."

"And the aquarium was not a date?"

Donghyuck thinks of the screaming children and the runaway cat and not about John's hand on his shoulders or the way he'd looked at the sharks. "No. The aquarium was not a date."

Johnny huffs. "Courting is easier. There's no gray area."

"I suppose that's why they got rid of it," Donghyuck muses. He takes a shaky breath and focuses back on the beef in the pan. It's too early to start cooking it, but he desperately needs something to do. "Humans like gray areas."

"Humans like things that lack commitment," Johnny says, low and slow.

When Donghyuck looks at him, John's eyes bore into his. This is also familiar, this terrible weight he has. Overwhelming. "Not like a god, right?" Donghyuck replies. "You're made for devotion."

"It's funny." Johnny's hands sit calmly in his lap. The light from the television screen paints him a million different colors in rapid succession, but he does not waver. "We are creatures who expect fealty...loyalty and devotion, certainly." He chews on his lip. "It isn't necessarily something we feel."

Donghyuck laughs, watching the goosebumps erupt on his arms. Stupid. "You want my fealty?"

"No." Johnny sighs. "I don't think I do."

Something in Donghyuck's heart hits rock bottom. He swallows it down even further. It is the same thing he always does. "I don't think I could give it to you, the way...you're used to." He takes a deep breath. "The singing and the gifts and...the worship?" He laughs. "It's strange to me."

Gods are just stories these days, old relics.

"It's alright," John says. "Only one of us will worship."

Donghyuck makes a face, heart racing. "What does that even mean?"

There are several irritating things about gods. The weight is one, the brooding is another. The power is terrifying, but Donghyuck is not terrified and thus ignores it when he can. The touching is soft, when Donghyuck is ready for it. But there is nothing so irritating as the way Johnny falls silent instead of answering.

Nothing so irritating, perhaps, other than the small voice in the back of Donghyuck's mind that knows the answer. That small voice is something else pushed down, so it is far away and quiet and easy to ignore.

The news drones on.

"We should go on a date."

Donghyuck slams his palms on the counter and releases a shuddering breath. The tension in his shoulders is beyond expectation. He evens himself before he says anything else. "Why?" he asks, neutral.

"I don't really understand them," Johnny says, eyebrows raised. "I think it would be nice to spend the time with you." Something shifts on his face. "Doyeon seemed quite excited at the prospect."

"Doyeon is six and doesn't know what she's talking about." Donghyuck crosses his arms over his chest. "We spend a lot of time together as it is," he says to the vinyl tiling.

Slow. "Yes."

"You really want to spend even more time with me?" Donghyuck laughs. It's a joke. A funny joke.

And an answering grin. "Yes." Johnny's eyes glint. "I think it would be good. I'm interested."

Just say no. "Well." There is something caught in Donghyuck's throat — a dismissal maybe, one he can't quite dig up. "We'll see." He stares at the beef. Beef does not make him feel like he's been electrocuted. "We already spend time together alone."

Slow and plodding, stubborn. Tortoise. "Then the next time it will be a date."

Donghyuck rubs his forehead. His hands shake. His stomach...there's something familiar in this feeling too, but it's been too long. "We'll see."

* * *

There is a new normal. This new normal includes everything the old normal did — making breakfast, showering, brushing his teeth, drying his hair — with a new moon in orbit.

The bathroom is small, and the tiles are slippery from the shower. Sometimes John will sit on the edge of the shower while Donghyuck washes his face. Sometimes he hums under his breath and Donghyuck's heart beats a little slower, easier. This morning is no different.

Donghyuck hums along.

It's a simple song, the melody a slow line that John often pulls out of the air. Donghyuck has it memorized. It slides into his head after long days and sinks there. Now it creeps out of his mouth and becomes a pretty duet.

Or it's a duet for a moment, and then John watches him with wide eyes and no sound. His mouth a small circle, his skin a little sallow in the dim bathroom light. Still, there's something perfect about him, enough to bring the rolling melody to a brutal halt in Donghyuck's throat.

He coughs and wipes his face with the towel by the sink. It needs to be washed. He'll do laundry after he returns from work. He tucks it away and pats his face until it's pink.

Downstairs, his mother sits at the table breastfeeding Dohee and reading the paper. The kitchen smells like sweet ham and bad coffee. There are glossy magazines tossed atop the table that Dongseok has cut to shreds for a school project. The twins watch early morning cartoons.

Donghyuck kisses his mother on the cheek and shuffles towards the coffee pot. "Would you like a cup?" he asks John, over his shoulder. The god is pulling a catatonic Doyeon into his lap on the couch.

"Yes, thank you." It does not matter. Even as Johnny sat down on the couch with the children Donghyuck had already been pouring a second cup.

A new normal.

Donghyuck packs up his own lunch and a second helping for Jeno.

"Are you taking the bus?" Johnny asks, holding the front door open. It's chilly outside. There are goosebumps on his bare skin. Can gods be cold?

"Yes."

John licks his lips and squints down the road. The walk to the bus stop is not terribly far, but Donghyuck's nose is turning red with the wind. Carefully, John adjusts the lapels of Donghyuck's jacket. "Please...take care."

Donghyuck smiles at him. "Of course. I'm always very careful."

There is a moment that hovers and John's hand moves from the collar of Donghyuck's coat to cup his cheek, quickly flushing red. It's too cold. Donghyuck closes his eyes.

_Wouldn't it be funny?_

Donghyuck breathes out, heavy. When his eyes flutter open, Johnny looks like…no. Johnny looks like he always looks when he sees Donghyuck — like he's seen something beautiful and cannot believe it. It is something that shakes Donghyuck to the core, over and over. It's hard to see. Donghyuck never looks for too long. "I should go."

The wave goodbye does not seem to mean enough to ease John's mind. He stands on the porch until Donghyuck is out of sight and perhaps longer — Donghyuck feels those heavy eyes long past the tree line.

When he arrives at the theater Donghyuck turns on the ghost light and feels the spirits walk in through the doors. A familiar morning.

Kenny argues with the artistic director for most of the morning and Donghyuck adjusts the light design. Next week they begin rigging the battens and Donghyuck makes sure everything they need is available. On the stage Jeno sweeps the marley floor and sings bad love songs.

He thanks Donghyuck for the extra rice and rubs Tiger Balm on his knee during lunch. They should get lunch soon. Netflix marathon, all four of them, whenever Renjun has free time. Whenever Donghyuck isn't working. When the show is over and Jaemin isn't doing whatever he's doing. Easy promises.

Nothing happens at the bus stop; at least, not that Donghyuck can remember. Birds sing. Donghyuck greets the bus driver and changes into his other uniform as the bus pulls onto the main road.

He thinks about Johnny. He wonders if Johnny is still standing on the porch.

Donghyuck feels light and heavy all at once.

* * *

Donghyuck isn't stupid. He's never been stupid — foolish, yes, ridiculous, yes, but blind?

Oh, Donghyuck wishes he was blind. He sees and his heart aches.

It's a peculiar kind of ache, because it shouldn't hurt to see the symptoms of devotion. Love, even, if Donghyuck were to look long enough. He never does. He is not terrified of Johnny, and yet there's something deeper that frightens him beyond all belief.

John's hands on Donghyuck's shoulders and hips are not hidden. His smiles are not hidden. The power he has, the things he does, the adoration he feels — Donghyuck wishes he would hide them. It would be easier.

Hiding has been and will always be easier.

Drowning, too, is something Donghyuck is familiar with. So he drowns himself. The clock ticks its steady rhythm and Donghyuck follows mindlessly. He wakes up and makes breakfast. He toes his shoes on and walks to the theater. He treats the ghost light like an old friend. He works third shift at the restaurant, runs bar when he can. He sings the babies to sleep and pretends there are not eyes on his back.

He puts rice on the windowsill and, for some reason, he prays.

Donghyuck doesn't know why. He's already been given a miracle.

"The school called," his mother tells him in the early morning while the pancakes sizzle in the pan. "If you want to apply for the fall you'll need to start filling out the scholarship forms again. The registrar left me her number. I put it on the fridge."

Donghyuck writes essays until his wrist aches and none of them are good enough but he keeps writing more.

"You don't need to worry so much." John looks over the notebooks littering the kitchen tables, eyebrows high. "I can take care of you."

It's a long breath and a longer moment before Donghyuck replies. "Let me pretend I can take care of myself." He runs a hand through his hair. "Just...just a little bit longer."

Johnny lets him be blind. Johnny organizes the papers and makes Donghyuck a cup of tea. Johnny distracts the babies so Donghyuck can work. Johnny carries Donghyuck to bed when he falls asleep at the table.

Is there a name for the feeling of being shaken to the core and yet cradled carefully in place? Is there a name for the feeling in Donghyuck's chest when he wakes up, again and again, and feels like life has shifted just slightly to the left?

Is it good? Is it sweet?

Is it something Donghyuck knows how to deal with?

Some answers are easier than others.

Jaemin laughs at him. Jaemin is always laughing. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"What have I done for you to think that?" Donghyuck snaps over the phone, the bath he's drawing rising up to cover his ankles.

"I don't think you've taken all three of those steps towards love, but, dude," Jaemin snorts. "He's already fallen over the edge and you let him."

"I don't let him do anything," Donghyuck replies, and it's true. "He does whatever he wants."

It's a sorry excuse for the truth. John does whatever he wants, but Donghyuck's hand on his shoulder is enough to stop a storm. Could Donghyuck have held John up from a fall? Would Donghyuck have fallen with him instead? There's no stopping a boulder that's already rolling.

Donghyuck knows that John...he knows. He cannot say it, but he knows.

He cannot love a god.

He won't let himself.

There's a knock on the bathroom door, and when Donghyuck turns around — he thinks it's one of the babies, wanting to be coddled despite the fact they went to bed a half hour ago — John is standing in the doorway. His hair is still tied up high on his head but it's messy around his face. The sweatshirt he's wearing is frayed from the Goodwill. He looks uncertain.

He looks at Donghyuck, drinks him in, and Donghyuck shivers when he remembers he's just sitting on the side of the tub in his towel. "Are you bathing?" Johnny asks, eyes on the skin of Donghyuck's back.

"Yeah," Donghyuck says, clearing his throat. The water is burning hot around his calves. "I was just waiting for it to fill up. Do you need to shower tonight?"

"You can take your time." John rolls his lips but does not stop looking. "There's not much for me to do in the morning."

Donghyuck hums. "I'll be out in time." He doesn't want John smelly in his bed. He likes when Johnny smells like him, anyway — if he's being honest with himself.

Johnny nods but does not leave. He stares at the phone in Donghyuck's hands. "Is that...Jaemin?"

Of course it's Jaemin. There is no way that John did not hear it was Jaemin, or assume it was Jaemin, or know it was Jaemin from some mythical method that he has never disclosed. "Yes," Donghyuck says, pursing his mouth. "I was just waiting, you know."

Johnny quirks a smile. "You didn't want to talk to me?"

It's a joke. It's not a joke. Donghyuck lets the humor sink into until the truth in it is left. "We're talking now, aren't we?"

"I...yes." John leans against the door jamb, arms crossing his chest. Oddly, despite his undress, Donghyuck does not feel awkward or uncomfortable. He's vulnerable, surely, and his skin is buzzing with something he usually attributes to magic or lightning or both. But he's okay. Johnny's eyes on him feel okay. "I'll...your bath is almost ready."

"Oh." The water has already hit the highest point and will not rise any further, and Donghyuck hurries to turn it off. "I'll talk to you later," he tells Jaemin through the phone.

"Was that the third step?" Jaemin asks, cheeky.

"No." Donghyuck hangs up on him.

John is long gone by the time Donghyuck takes off his towel and sinks into the water. His skin turns pink immediately, water scalding. He won't move until he's a prune and rising from the bath will give him a head rush. He wants to forget everything.

Baths are relaxing until something is on your mind.

Nothing can rip his thoughts from his head, and Donghyuck has never been good at doing it himself. He thinks about his mother and the mortgage and the way her dark circles are gone. He thinks about Johnny with Dongseok in his lap and Doyeon wrapped around his neck. He thinks of lullabies. He thinks of the half finished essay sitting out of the kitchen table. He thinks of all the things he has to do.

All of the things he doesn't have to do any more but keeps doing anyway.

His hands run over his thighs, imprints on tan and red. His back doesn't hurt any more. He doesn't need to hold on so tightly.

These days Donghyuck can breathe; why isn't he?

Is it too hard? Did he forget how?

Donghyuck digs his fingers into the base of his neck and sinks deeper into the water until his nose is submerged and he has no choice but to hold his breath. His chest is tight.

Has he so completely adjusted to the old New Normal that this second shift has felt terribly like taking a step back?

His bottle of shampoo is half-empty. Johnny uses too much, even if he has more hair. He likes the suds — old soaps didn't do that, when they had to use them. Johnny laughed and told Donghyuck how he used to bathe in ponds on the mountain, or walk into the public baths and see if anyone knew power when they saw it. "It rarely happened," he admitted. "When it did, it was always a fun game."

"Did they fall to their knees for you?"

"Nothing so sacred." The curl of Johnny's mouth had been pleasant. "They run. Humans always run."

They pray and sing and dance until they're under the eyes of the divine and then they realize how utterly, truly small they are. Donghyuck understands. Faced with it all, isn't it too much?

And yet, Donghyuck has never run.

Would he ever? Donghyuck bites his lip until it bleeds. He thinks that Johnny might leave before Donghyuck runs. Donghyuck thinks he might be devoted. Some small, all-seeing part of his heart thinks he might he holding on with all his might.

He slams his foot against the ceramic until it smarts. He's stupid.

He's a prune. He should let John take his shower.

The water from the shower head is cold when it starts falling. Donghyuck shivers as the soap runs down the drain. His footprints on the mat remind him he's real, but the heat from the bath makes his head empty and hollow. So many thoughts and yet so much space, running wildly until Donghyuck can't find his balance.

He doesn't dry his hair before he leaves the bathroom. It's still dripping down his neck into the collar of his robe when he enters his bedroom. "The shower is free."

John is sitting at Donghyuck's desk. The window hangs open, the way they both like it, and his head is resting on his arms. His hair is even more wild than it had been prior to Donghyuck's bath. When he looks up at Donghyuck, he seems lazy. "Ah...thank you." A breeze blows in through the curtains. A bird sings from the trees outside, despite the sun's long standing disappearance.

He looks like a dream.

"I'll be quick," John says, standing up. "So you can sleep."

"So _you_ can sleep." Donghyuck puts his towel over his head and rubs his eyes. "Be extra quick for yourself."

The bed welcomes him. Donghyuck is boneless and lazy from his bath. He pulls a t-shirt on over his damp hair and steps into a pair of boxers. He breathes in the fresh air one more time before reaching over to shut the window.

There's a piece of paper on the sill that had not been there before.

Birds twitter.

 _The message has been sent to the family,_ in curling script. _They will test you. Hold on to what you want, brother. Do not let anyone take it from you, even Fate._

Donghyuck folds the paper into squares and presses it flat against the chipped top of his desk. He breathes deeply. "Thank you," he tells the bird, in case Johnny forgot, and shuts the window. His hands shake against the latch.

When John returns from his shower the sky is dark outside the window and Donghyuck is already tucked into bed.

There is a gentleness in how John closes the door behind him that says he thinks Donghyuck is already asleep. He turns the door so the latch is quiet, steps carefully around the debris on the floor. He doesn't turn the lamp on.

His hair is half-dried, rumpled and wild and unkempt from being under the towel. He's wearing pajama pants, slung low on his waist. They're a bit silly, bright blue with ice cream cones and cows in lurid pinks and greens. Donghyuck had found them at the thrift store and thought they were funny. Johnny wears them all the time. They're well-worn, frayed at the hem.

John isn't wearing a shirt. He always tugs one on before climbing into bed, but he hates putting one on after a shower. His skin is still damp. Donghyuck is still in bed, curled up like he's sleeping solid, but he watches the muscles of Johnny's back as the god carefully brushes and braids his hair over his shoulder.

In the mirror, Donghyuck can see too much skin — but there's also that branching scar. Donghyuck has seen it several times since the first, when he dressed John up in his father's clothes. It trails over a collar bone, reaching down one half of Johnny's chest. If Donghyuck looks closely he can see it under the towel over John's shoulders, climbing his spine like ivy on a trellis, dipping low across a shoulder blade. He wonders if it's raised, how it would feel under fingertips.

"I thought staring was impolite."

Donghyuck startles, meeting Johnny's eyes in the mirror.

The god's face is neutral, amused at best, but there's nothing there that Donghyuck can read. He curls the covers closer into his chest.

"Where else am I supposed to look?" he demands. He's quiet, because the moment feels like it should be quiet.

Johnny smiles now, almost laughing but not quite. His fingers card through wet hair, braiding nimbly. "Most people sleep with their eyes closed."

Donghyuck doesn't have an argument for that. He pauses, swallows thickly, before turning around to face the wall. He will not yield. He's not sure what he'd be giving up, but it feels important to not let it go. He bites his lip and clutches the blankets too tight.

There's a rustling as John continues preparing for bed. Donghyuck has memorized the sounds at some point he can't recall. He knows when John snaps the hairband around his braid and he knows when John is rifling through the drawers for a shirt and he knows the sigh as John rolls his neck before walking over to the bed.

The blankets move and Donghyuck lets go, giving up the covers he's stolen. John slots in behind him, and Donghyuck knows this too — the way they fit together in Donghyuck's tiny bed for the creeping hours until morning. Some days John leaves space between them, some days he presses in close. Today their legs brush and John keeps his hands to himself.

"How…" The words get stuck in Donghyuck's throat, but he knows John heard him. They are too close and the world is asleep. "How did you get your scar?"

Johnny hums, like his brain has already wandered away. "I was born with it?"

Donghyuck blinks. "Born with it?" He still faces the drywall. There are cracks in the paint. "How?"

A delicate pause. "Mark was born human, and carried his humanity with him into his divinity — all the scars and bumps and bruises. I was born of the storm, so I carried that with me as well."

"You've...you've never been human?"

"No." Behind him Johnny turns, and Donghyuck feels the eyes on the back of his neck. "You are asking more questions recently. Are you more comfortable?"

Donghyuck is more comfortable, perhaps, but it seems like every question he asks is left half-answered. "I'm just curious."

"Well." John is smiling. Donghyuck can hear it. His heart races. "We have a lifetime for curiosity."

And yet, something is pulling at Donghyuck's stomach — _is he comfortable?_ — and he needs it satiated. "Can I see?" He props himself up on his elbows and turns, watches the way John looks up at him from the pillow.

A slow blink. "See…?"

"Your scar." Donghyuck takes a deep breath. "Can I see it?"

John pauses only another moment, but he says nothing else as he adjusts to pull his shirt up and over his head in one practiced motion. It is awkward, and his arms get tangled in the sheets and the shirt and the blankets. It's dark. Donghyuck can only see in the light of the moonlight, but it's clear enough. He can see John breathe. He can see the hollows of collarbone and the outlines of muscle. He can see that branch creeping over Johnny's shoulder.

He stares.

Donghyuck has not allowed himself to stare.

He is not allowed, but he's forgotten who made the rules and why. It feels better to look at his god than at the drywall. It feels better to see.

Donghyuck has never been as oblivious as he'd like to be. He knows himself better than he wishes to. He can only ignore things for so long. He can only ignore the way his hands shake for so long. He can pretend he does not understand the stares, but he cannot stop the way his heart beats.

There is a god in his bed and Donghyuck truly, reverently, foolishly _sees_.

"Can I?" Donghyuck's hand hovers in the space between them. He isn't sure how to ask the question but he knows that he needs to.

John swallows, still looking up at him from the pillow. Donghyuck watches his throat move. "If…" He bites his lip and changes the thought. "Yes. You can."

The moment Donghyuck's fingertips touch John's skin the god shakes. He shudders, his entire body, and his eyes fall shut with a deep breath. It does not make sense. There are things that John does that seem more than Donghyuck could comprehend. There's that small, all-knowing voice somewhere distant, getting closer.

It does not help that Johnny wants Donghyuck to know. Desperately sometimes, John wants Donghyuck to see all of him. John wants Donghyuck to stop pretending more than anything, and so he hides nothing.

In a way, nothing is quite as devastating.

The skin under Donghyuck's hands is smooth as he slides it across tanned skin to that brutal mark. He feels it under his palm, raised eyes. The color isn't the white-pink of the scars on Donghyuck's knees, or the divet of the scar from his appendicitis. It's dark like ink — he can't make out the exact color in the low light. He traces up one prong, follows it up with a single finger. He crosses bone and John swallows again.

"Is it what you expected?" John asks.

Donghyuck doesn't know what he expected. "Does it hurt?"

"There's no cruelty in it. It's a part of me." John does not move, does not falter. Donghyuck envies him for that. "Why would it hurt?"

There's no answer to that, other than Donghyuck feeling like it should. He frowns.

When he puts his palm flat, he feels the beating of his god's heart, hammering. At odds with the serene expression on his face. Like it will beat out of rib and flesh if it burns any brighter.

Donghyuck pulls away like he's been scalded.

"Ah...thank you." He swallows thickly. "I was just…"

"Curious," Johnny finished slowly.

"Yes." Donghyuck sinks back down on the bed. "Sorry. I…"

"Don't apologize to me." Johnny turns his head to face him. "But don't ask me why my heart was beating if you don't want to know the answer."

"Hearts beat," Donghyuck says dismissively. He is so awake right now it's startling. He knows the answer — it's one question he doesn't need to ask. "You don't need an excuse to live."

Johnny laughs, a little incredulous, a little delighted. "Are you saying that to me, or to yourself?"

If Donghyuck had the heart to glower, he would. His legs jitter. He wants to move. "I know my heart beats."

"How does it beat?"

"Like…" He huffs. "Normally. It beats normally." If John deigned to check, Donghyuck would be caught in a horrible lie.

The hand stretches out, not quite touching, and John's fingers ghost over Donghyuck's stomach through linen and cotton. "Does it?"

Gods have never been subtle. Creatures designed to shake the earth have no reason to only show a part of themselves. There has never been a reason for John to hide a part of himself. In that way, humans have the unfortunate advantage. And yet, Donghyuck can't convince himself that he has successfully hidden anything.

"Yes," he says, and it's a lie. "It does."

The hand creeps higher. "Can I?"

Donghyuck grips him by the wrist. His hands are shaking.

John stares at him. He stares and stares and stares like he has nothing else to do, nothing better, like he can see through sinew and bone and see that small lie beating frantically against Donghyuck's rib cage. "You…" Soft. "You don't have to hide from me," John says. It's a whisper. Donghyuck can feel the air against his cheek. "There is nothing wrong with giving."

Donghyuck has nothing to give.

"And if the giving frightens you—" _No._ "then you can just take."

In a moment, Donghyuck's spirit shifts and clicks into a softer place, a desperate place and he sees Johnny there for the taking. He sees it. He cannot yield. He cannot think. There is nothing for it beyond this gift. It is not easy or simple but Donghyuck wants it and cannot convince himself he doesn't.

He can only pretend for so long.

Something in his chest crumples, like a can under his heel. Like paper in his hand. Like ice under a hammer. It isn't delicate. It's ripped from him with a wounded sound, horrible, ugly, and Donghyuck surges forward because he has to.

John's hand pressed against his chest and Donghyuck grips him by the back of the neck, fingers tangling in his hair. His hand shakes. His body shakes. His lips touch Johnny's and something breaks, brutal.

His god is not soft. His god is not controlled. His god is a storm, all hands on skin. One settles on Donghyuck's waist right about the band of his boxers, gripping too tight. His chest shudders, barely moving — Donghyuck can feel it where they're pressed together, a long and easy line.

Johnny's lips are soft and pliant and his body is unyielding. His tilts his head, just so, and Donghyuck slots their mouths together like one more perfect puzzle piece. There's a growl building up in John's throat, and a desperate whimper in Donghyuck's, but his hand does not let go of John's neck. He can take. He can take and take and _take_ and at this moment it feels like it will never be enough.

Donghyuck bites on John's lip and kisses deeper. John's mouth tastes like toothpaste. It's so normal, a part of Donghyuck wants to laugh. John moves his legs and Donghyuck is slotted upwards to accommodate. The hands at his hips wrap around and hold him down at the base of his spine. John's palm smoothes up, pressed high underneath Donghyuck's shirt to feel the shifts of his shoulder blades as he tries to pull Johnny impossibly closer. He shifts his leg to straddle him properly.

John licks into Donghyuck's mouth, almost tentative, almost shaking, and Donghyuck has no more room for hesitance. He sucks on Johnny's tongue until Johnny shudders underneath, pulls away to see if Johnny will follow. He does. This god shifts and moves to fill the spaces between them, like he will also never get enough. It's heady. Donghyuck wants to sing.

The break between the leaves room for other things. John seems to have unspoken plans. He surges upward, kisses the mole on Donghyuck's throat, gentle and dry, and then the one under his jaw. Behind his ear. Holding onto his human, he kisses the mole on Donghyuck's cheek, the one by his eyes. Donghyuck shudders, head falling backwards, both hands tangled in the loose hairs he's pulled from Johnny's braid. This is sweet like sugar, not desperation but carefully cultivated desire.

Donghyuck would falter if he had the heart for it.

John's hands slide back to Donghyuck's waist and then up his sides, a slow line that Donghyuck arches into, deep breath. John kisses his throat and his shoulder, any skin he can find before the barrier of Donghyuck's sideways collar. He digs nails into the meat of Donghyuck's bare thighs. He mutters something into Donghyuck's throat, too soft to be heard, but the buzz lights Donghyuck on fire.

He holds John's face between hands and kisses him again. He is still shaking, that tremble bleeding from his hands to his entire body. John is warm beneath him, under him. He thinks his god is trembling too, if the shuddering breaths mean anything. Donghyuck thinks they do. He drinks from the fountain. Something crackles in the air, sharp, but everything is soft and hazy and somehow pointed. Every place they touch is searing.

Donghyuck pulls away gently and John still tries to follow, mouth pursed and eyes closed. Donghyuck runs his thumbs across Johnny's cheeks with a disbelieving laugh, too sweet, and when Johnny opens his eyes they're glazed over and blown.

 _Is this what it's like,_ Donghyuck wonders, _to have someone worship you?_ His heart stutters. It's dangerous. It hurts, too much. Donghyuck was not designed for this kind of feeling.

Johnny's heart races even faster. He's panting, looking at Donghyuck with those eyes. One hand engulfs Donghyuck's on his face, holding in place, while the other runs back and forth over Donghyuck's thigh, brewing goosebumps. "I..."

It is the most overwhelmed Donghyuck has ever seen him.

He kisses the palm of Donghyuck's hand, just at the heel, and his lips linger. Donghyuck watches the motion with fascination. He watches John breathe him in. He cannot look away.

"I love you," John mutters into the palm of Donghyuck's hand. "I'm hopelessly in love with you."

The world stops.

Donghyuck has barely processed those words when John suddenly freezes. He's stone, and if Donghyuck feels time stop. His hand falls away from Donghyuck's. His face falls and the hand on Donghyuck's thigh comes to a halt.

"What?" Donghyuck asks. He's reeling. The moment is frozen. Inside, something sinks.

Johnny looks tired; sad and tired. "Don't pretend you did not know."

Donghyuck's hands are hanging between them, stuck, and he lets them fall into his lap a little helplessly. "I..." Donghyuck knew. He's flushed still, red from the bath and the kisses and rapid pace. "I didn't think..."

"That I would say anything?" John challenges.

"I just..." Donghyuck wilts. "Why would you?"

Johnny clenches his jaw, mouth tight. "Say anything?"

 _Love me._ "I figured you would just...you know, wait it out." Until it ended and his god moved on. The hand on Donghyuck's leg spasms, a ghost of its previous desperation. "It just doesn't...make sense."

"Don't say that to me." John shakes his head. There is no disbelief there. There is something else, slightly bitter, but not disbelief. "What do you mean it doesn't make sense? You don't think I could love you?"

"You'll leave eventually." It is an old fear, freshly spoken. Donghyuck's voice is small. He can't stop the way his heart is beating, like it's still in a gear meant for happiness. Is that what he was, a moment ago? He doesn't remember. All he feels now is unbidden dread.

"I won't."

"Johnny, you're a god." Donghyuck fists the material of his shirt, still trembling. " _You'll leave eventually._ "

Fire. "I would _never_ —"

"I'll die." Donghyuck scowls, lip quivering. Stupid. "What's the point in loving something that doesn't last forever?"

There is nothing Johnny can say to that.

Donghyuck clenches his jaw and looks out the window. "Besides..." He shakes his head. "I'm the first person you've come into contact with after 500 horrible years." The first beating heart. "Is this a debt? You're giving yourself over to something small because I'm the only one here?"

Johnny's jaw is slack. "You think this is an infatuation."

Donghyuck knows. "You said yourself you've never loved a human before."

"I've only loved one other person in my life—"

"Really?" Donghyuck holds himself around the middle, like that might stop him from shaking to pieces. "In your immortal life I'm the second person you've ever loved? And you've only known me for what, a blink? A month or two? Does that not sound like an infatuation to you?" Donghyuck holds his head in his hands. His hair is wild. His heart is wild. "You barely know me."

Gods, what has he done? Foolish.

Johnny props himself up more firmly on her arms, his face drawing closer. His eyes are searching. "I know you," he hisses.

"No." Donghyuck feels a bit dull. "You don't." And if he does it isn't fair, because Donghyuck feels like he doesn't know anything. He doesn't understand anything. "I only saved you because I needed the money—"

"Which you refuse to take," Johnny snips, with a laugh. "I have to fight to take care of you. Don't pretend that's all this is."

"Let's just..." This was all such a mistake. "Let's just forget it, okay? Let's pretend this never happened."

Both of Johnny's hands are on Donghyuck's wrists now, not holding him down but holding him steady. "I _can't_ ," John says, heavy. "I'll just keep wishing for the next day you admit that—"

"Admit _what_ —"

"—that you have feelings for me."

Donghyuck pulls his hands away. "I don't." There's a hard edge now, not sharp but dull and rusted. "I absolutely don't." That third step hasn't come. Donghyuck has been too busy digging his heels in the sand.

Johnny's eyes are on fire, something bitter blue instead of cherry hot. "Then why did you kiss me in the first place?"

"Maybe I just wanted kisses." Donghyuck sounds mulish, stubborn, silly, but it's been a long time. No one has touched him or looked at him in a way that mattered in such a long time. "Maybe I'm desperate and needy and you're here so I kissed you." It does sound bitter. It matches the look on Johnny's face.

It takes a moment for the god to collect himself. "So if Jaemin was here, you would have kissed him? Like this?" John puts his hands delicately on Donghyuck's hips, a reminder of where Donghyuck sits.

Donghyuck is back to watching the drywall.

"If Mark was here, you'd have kissed him?" Johnny demands, brittle and booming. "Or Renjun? Or Jeno? Or Anyone."

"Yes," Donghyuck says, heart bleeding.

The window cracks.

It's raining — Donghyuck hadn't noticed. Thunder rolls. It wasn't supposed to rain today. Wind rattles the panes and there's an ugly scar through glass. His ears ring with the ghost of a sound. Other than that, all is quiet.

Johnny has ripped his eyes from Donghyuck for the first time and watches the rain beating the window. The air is punched from his lungs, sucked out of the room like a vacuum until all that's left is the forceful pattering of the rain. Perhaps John's surprised, too, that Donghyuck hurt him.

Donghyuck did not think he was capable.

He looks at the dirty clothes on his floor and nowhere else, until Johnny reaches up slowly to cup his face with both hands. Donghyuck looks at the ceiling. He's exhausted.

Johnny runs his thumbs over Donghyuck's cheeks and they come away wet. "Don't lie to me," Johnny whispers into a quiet space. He sounds empty. "Or...you can but...please don't."

In a horrible way, Donghyuck is the most powerful one in the room.

"I need...some air." He slides off of Johnny's lap and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He feels boneless and frozen, a marionette with the strings cut. He can't stay in this room.

"Please, let's just..." _talk._ Donghyuck knows Johnny wants to talk and Johnny knows that Donghyuck can't. Outside, the storm rages. Johnny's hand stretches towards Donghyuck's back as he leaves the room, but he does not follow.

Donghyuck closes the door behind him and feels like he's breathing for the first time. Behind him is too heavy; Johnny wants too much. Donghyuck wipes his eyes and shuffles down the hall.

He has always liked the rain; it has a way of drowning everything out, all sounds and smells and feelings. It blurs the landscape. It feels like starting over, like a sad restart button whenever everything rolls into a storm. The thunder has dissipated, far away, but the rain bounces off leaf and grass and flower. The air is still cool.

This used to be his favorite weather, but now it tastes metallic in his mouth. Donghyuck clings onto the porch railing and cries.

Donghyuck does not cry often. He does not like crying, because it is violent and messy and draining and leaves him empty, leaves his head pounding. He cries like he has something to lose. He hates it.

He already feels that way before the tears start falling, so there's no reason to swallow it down.

Sometimes crying also feels like a sad restart.

Donghyuck isn't sure why this is so shocking — he'd known it was going to happen. He is never as oblivious as he wishes he was. Johnny looks at him too closely and Donghyuck only minds because he likes what it means and can't admit it. He likes it. He does. Johnny is beautiful. Johnny is good, in whatever way matters.

John is a god and Donghyuck is a human and the moment they're anything more than that to each other everything will fall apart.

 _Are you real?_ Johnny had asked, covered in dirt and hurting more than Donghyuck can comprehend, but those stars were still in his eyes. It hurts to think about, those stars. Johnny should hate him. Donghyuck is such a mess and doesn't know anything and he's crying, ugly sobbing clinging to the porch railing because this has gone so far out of his hands.

Control is all he has left and it's slipping, washing away with the rain his own words have caused.

God. Is it his turn to sleep for a century? Can he sink into the dirt and stay there until someone pulls him up like a root and sets him free?

Can he rest?

He bits on his fist and glares at the roof of the porch until the tears stop falling. That's enough. This is enough. He will not cry anymore. He won't fall apart. He's being stupid. It isn't a big deal. What's fleeting love to a god? What's a human to a storm? What's Donghyuck to anyone?

This isn't even John's fault. This is months of boiling slammed into a wall that's destined to break. He knows it's not right. Donghyuck spits the bad taste into the earth and finds himself empty without it.

He shivers. His forehead presses against the railing.

The hanging plants create small waterfalls. They sway in the wind, despite the storm, but the water paints blotchy lines on the concrete of the porch. Donghyuck sighs, a spent body, and holds his hand under the deluge.

Water never hits his palm.

Centimeters above the skin of his hand the rain parts and rolls down like he's oil, untouched.

His hand hovers in the open space, and Donghyuck watches the rain roll off in waterfalls, never touching skin. The sight is unreal. The moment is unreal. The storm is angry — or is it sad? — and yet it does not touch him.

Despite himself, Donghyuck laughs. "You...really?" He wipes his nose and the laughter sounds like a sob, quickly stifled. He stands up and carefully treads down the stairs into the lawn.

Every inch of him that leaves cover remains dry. There is not a drop on his shirt or his hair or his skin. He feels the wind and remains unmoved. Rain rebounds off of the ground and his feet are bare and clean. He holds out his arms. Everything is blurry but Donghyuck still endures.

Face tilted towards the sky, he breathes in the storm once, twice, in and out. His face is puffy and red but the tears have rolled to a stop. He looks up at his bedroom window, locked shut. His throat feels swollen and his lip quivers. "You stupid god." Disbelief. Perhaps it's foolish to not believe, even still. Donghyuck holds himself around the middle.

In the old oak the crow sits. She caws at him, that human cry.

"Don't look at me like that." Donghyuck sighs.

She does not move.

"It would never work, anyway," he tells her, and allows himself to mourn the truth. The rain continues to fall. "Nothing ever really works out when we want it that badly."

But...Donghyuck has already gotten one miracle.

He is exhausted. He wants to rest. With heavy feet and the knowledge that — despite the hurt — his god does not hate him, Donghyuck walks back inside. He trails in dirt and nothing else.

When he opens his bedroom door, the glass of the window is whole and the lamp is on, casting a dim glow as the storm rages. John is sitting on Donghyuck's bed with his head in his hands. He looks up when the latch shuts, and his eyes are red, a mirror image of the disaster on Donghyuck's face. There's hope there, though.

He holds out his hand.

Donghyuck turns off the lamp. With that same trembling heart, Donghyuck tucks himself back into bed. With those same shaking hands, Johnny wraps himself into the space behind, the palm of his hand pressing into the steady thump thump thump of Donghyuck stupid, beating heart.

It is not the end of the conversation, or the aching, or the storm. It is only the end of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (◡ ‿ ◡ ✿)


	7. the rite of movement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A god loving a human...don’t you see how that doesn’t make sense? After all of these years you love me of all people, the person who saved you from being buried alive and gave you a house and...and a purpose?”
> 
> “Aren’t those things worth loving for?”
> 
> Donghyuck’s heart breaks and he hates it. “That’s not love that’s…” He swallows. “That’s devotion.” He takes a shaky breath. “They’re not the same.”
> 
> Johnny takes Donghyuck in, breathes him in completely, and that sad look in his eye is back. “No, they’re not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright this will shock no one but this is gonna have more than 11 chapters i'm just too lazy to figure it out right now  
> also please be patient as my computer is currently out of commission and i am updating this from the potato that my roommate so graciously lent me. after this i have to go fix my unemployment, but at least i can do that knowing that johnhyuck are one step closer to ~~fucking~~ being in love. big thanks to both ellie and appia, and i will apologize for being trash and writing a chapter that is 90% dialogue for no reason other than that i personally: cannot shut up

Donghyuck wakes up not to the ringing of his alarm but to the screaming of the children in the early morning. It is not unusual to hear them stomping around long before Donghyuck needs to get out of bed for work. It’s not unusual.

His face is swollen and his mind was left behind in his sleep. It doesn’t want to return to the land of the living and is glued to his pillow. When he sits up there are rocks in his body, useless and clunky and too heavy to move. Boulders. He rubs his eyes.

Beside him, Johnny still sleeps.

More than sleeping, Johnny is dead to the world. Donghyuck can’t remember a morning when he woke up first. He can’t even remember seeing John sleep — he’s seen that subtle inbetween, just before the fall, but this eyes-tight mouth-slack sleep is new.

John’s arms cling to Donghyuck’s waist. He clings like Donghyuck is a lifeline, like a vice, even in his sleep.

Watching him leaves something sour in Donghyuck’s throat. Is it guilt? He can’t tell whether the bitterness is directly at the god or at himself, but it sticks to his throat and refuses to be swallowed down.

Carefully, Donghyuck cards his fingers through the mess of John’s hair. The braid has come out almost completely. When he pushes the hair off Johnny’s forehead Donghyuck sees swollen eyes. He hums.

What a strange night.

The sunlight bleeds in through the blinds and outside the bedroom door there’s wailing, which means it’s long past time to get up. Donghyuck will have to leave his mind behind and carry his rocks along throughout the day, but that’s not something he’s unused to after crying. Everything he’s felt for the past six months is outside soaking into the porch steps; it’s natural there’d be nothing left. Just that bitter feeling sticking in his throat.

It’s difficult to make John release his grip. Donghyuck has to pry at the fingers one by one, ever so gently so as not to cause the waking. John’s hands hold on too hard, but they’re gentle despite it. They smooth over Donghyuck’s skin, the hint of a linger, and Donghyuck swings his legs over the side of the bed. He sits there for a moment, breathes in the daylight.

He looks like a ruin in the mirror.

Dongseok shrieks.

Donghyuck slips his feet into his shoes and shuffles out into the kitchen.

His mother is holding a very naked Dongseok upside down in her lap, her hair tied up haphazardly around her face. Doyeon sits on the couch above her drinking a juice box with sleepy eyes while Dongseok throws his fit and Dohee bounces in her playtoy. She shrieks every once in a while, matching Dongseok for pitch and shrill but not for sheer agony.

“He’s having a day,” she tells Donghyuck with dead eyes, narrowly avoiding being kicked in the chin.

Donghyuck sees the scissors sitting on the floor at her side. “It’s hair cutting day, isn’t it?” He snorts. He squats down and looks at Dongseok’s tear-ridden face. There’s snot everywhere. “What’s up, little man? We do this every time and you’re always okay at the end.”

“Look, Doyeon sat really nicely through her haircut and it was over so fast!” Mother says.

It’s not a great point because chances are Doyeon was half-asleep the entire time.

“I _don’t want it_ ,” Dongseok says through tears. “I want long hair!”

That’s new. Usually he’s just afraid of the scissors. “Long hair?” Donghyuck sits down cross-legged and picks up the scissors. “You don’t want hair like mine?” Although Donghyuck too needs a haircut. “Don’t I look pretty?”

“ _No_.”

His mother laughs.

Donghyuck looks at her and rolls his eyes. “You have to look nice and clean for school, though. You like being clean.”

“ _Johnny_ is clean,” Dongseok says. “Johnny can do things with his hair!”

Oh. Donghyuck huffs, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Johnny doesn’t go to school.”

Mother grimaces at him because right on cue — “Why do _I_ have to go to school?”

“Because John isn’t like you or me.” That bitter thing in his throat does come out just a little, thick on his tongue. Dongseok doesn’t need his bitterness or his guilt. “Johnny already...um. Johnny already knows all the stuff that Mr. Jaehyun is going to teach you. He’s special.”

“I’m special.”

“You are special.” Donghyuck takes the boy from his mother’s lap and kisses a snotty cheek, smoothing down crazy hair. “If you study really hard and listen to all of the stuff Mr. Jaehyun has to tell you, then you will know _everything._ ”

A pause. “Everything?”

“Yeah, honey.” His mother puts her cheek in her palm. “If you know everything then you won’t need to go to school and then you can have long hair like John.”

Donghyuck can hear the gears turning in Dongseok’s head, the process of this rare knowledge that there’s a potential end to his suffering. Donghyuck thinks he’d honor a promise like this — if Dongseok really learns as much as Johnny knows then hell if they’ll be able to keep him in a classroom.

“Okay.” Dongseok settles into Donghyuck’s lap with a grumble. “Only if you pinky promise.”

“Absolutely.” Donghyuck locks their pinkies together and kisses his brother's knuckles. His mother huffs out a laugh. “Work hard, baby. But until then...” He sits Dongseok upright. “You know what time it is.”

There’s already coffee in the pot and boxes of cereal lined up on the kitchen island like a buffet. Donghyuck checks the time of the clock. He doesn’t work until the evening — he’s closing bars, which means good money and shitty hours — so he could go through the trouble of making breakfast, but he feels like his body is full of sludge. Maybe cooking will calm him…

Coffee first.

“Did you hear that rain last night?” Donghyuck’s mother asks, once she’s wrestled a still grumbling Dongseok into a chair and is wetting his hair. Donghyuck hums, stirring sugar and cream into his cup with the spoon left by the sink. “God, it was loud.” Dohee babbles and their mother coos at her.

Donghyuck watches the black coffee turn light brown and clinks the spoon on the rim before he answers. “Did it wake you up?”

“Yeah.” She shakes her head. “Dohee doesn’t like the noise so much. Night shift is going to be rough tonight.” The slight _snip snip_ of Dongseok’s hair falling to the floor is grounding, as are his whines and Doyeon’s yawns where she’s half-asleep on the couch.

There’s already rice on the windowsill. The crow from last night sits on the gate of the yard, several feet away but watching. Donghyuck puts the spoon back by the sink. “Sorry.”

His mother doesn’t pause in her cutting. “It’s alright,” she says, as if she’d known it was Donghyuck’s fault in the first place. Donghyuck grips the fake granite countertop with white-knuckled hands. “It’s alright, Hyuck.”

“Sure.” Donghyuck rubs sleep from his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, mug in hand. He blows cool air on hot steam. “It’s only a storm, right?”

“It’s only a storm.” His mother laughs. “Besides, sometimes we need a little rain.”

“Rain is part of the water cycle,” Dongseok says primly in his seat. “It makes things grow.”

“You tell ‘em, Seokie,” she says, tapping Dongseok on the head with her comb. “Rain is the natural order of things.”

“Just like hair growing,” Donghyuck says, Devil’s advocate, but he’s grinning as he takes a sip of his coffee. It’s overly sweet, the way he likes it. He laughs when Dongseok starts whining again, laughs harder at the sharp look his mother gives him, but he loves her for trying to spin things a little brighter.

He keeps looking towards his closed bedroom door.

What a weird night followed by a morning Donghyuck knows like the back of his hand. Is this his life now, this jarring push and pull?

John walks out into the hallway just as Donghyuck starts to see the bottom of his coffee mug and is pouring himself a second cup. Donghyuck knows as soon as the door opens, one eye focused in that direction since he started his day. He watches as John pauses, gently shutting the door behind him. He watches as Johnny turns to look at him in the kitchen, and they breathe together long enough to call it a moment. He looks sad.

The god walks across and enters the bathroom.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh.” Donghyuck looks back at his mother, wiping hair off her shears. He purses his mouth and takes a lukewarm sip of coffee. “Nothing.”

Donghyuck is still staring when he hears the shower turn on.

“What are you looking at?” Dongseok asks.

“Nothing.” Donghyuck grumbles. “He just showered last night. I was wondering, that’s all.”

Donghyuck does start cooking breakfast, sometime between Doyeon fully waking up demanding bacon and Johnny reentering the bedroom. Dohee is transferred to her high chair and has started screaming intermittently. Donghyuck barely hears the door open and close over the sound of frying in the pan and the babbling, but he’s paying more attention to the god than he’d like. It’s hard not too.

Donghyuck isn’t sure his brain has truly entered today yet.

Doyeon is chattering about math when Donghyuck puts the plate of bacon on the table. She’s complaining about the boy in her class who keeps stealing her pink mechanical pencils, and then she’s begging a grumpy Dongseok to braid her hair for her before they head off to school for the day. Donghyuck is laughing at them when Johnny finally emerges into the living area.

He’s dressed well, in slacks and a sweater. His hair is still wet — it’s too long to dry so quickly, unruly by nature — and it’s tied back haphazardly in a bun that will surely be tangled by the day’s end. Johnny’s grown fond of dressing nicely, in their short foray into modern fashion. Donghyuck hadn’t been helpful, never having had the money to experiment, but Johnny loved it.

“Good morning, John,” Donghyuck’s mother says and Doyeon joins in the chorus, craning her head to see the god walk into the living area until Dongseok yells at her for moving too much while he’s trying to work.

Donghyuck focuses on the dress shoes in Johnny’s hand. “Where are you going?” he asks, too firm.

Johnny raises an eyebrow.

His mother laughs, short and disbelieving. “Seriously, Hyuck?”

Donghyuck flushes red. “Good morning. Where are you going?” Johnny never goes anywhere unless Donghyuck himself goes with him.

“I need to speak with a friend,” John says calmly. He puts his free hand in his pocket and he doesn’t look sad anymore. He looks like he has somewhere to be that isn’t here and that’s _strange._ Donghyuck just thinks it’s strange. “Is that alright?”

Thunder rolls.

The crow caws.

Donghyuck looks outside at the sky with a scoff.

“Of course it’s alright,” says his mother. “Donghyuck can take the babies to school himself, right?”

“I can.” Donghyuck slumps in this chair, mug in both hands. “I’m just...surprised.”

Johnny bows his head. “I’ll return quickly.” He doesn’t look at Donghyuck before he turns towards the front door.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Donghyuck asks.

“That’s alright.” Johnny doesn’t even stop. “I’m sure I’ll be fed. He can be very hospitable.”

There’s rustling as Johnny slips into his shoes by the front door, and Donghyuck’s jittery legs are telling him to chase. He stands up abruptly from the table, sliding sock feet on the floor. “Just be back in time to take the kids, okay?” his mother calls as he bolts towards the porch.

Something in Donghyuck’s stomach says this won’t take very long.

“John—”

Johnny pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”

The sun is risen, pretty gold and red, and Johnny does look unnatural as it shines in. Donghyuck’s throat is dry. “I…” He clears his throat. He’s a wreck. He needs to say something. “About last night—”

“Last night?” Thunder rolls. John looks at the floor and then towards the chattering in the kitchen. “Let’s talk outside.”

Dutifully Donghyuck follows Johnny out the door, slipping into his shoes and closing the door firmly behind with unsure hands. He stands on the porch but goes no further.

Johnny himself doesn’t seem to be in any rush. He waits there with his hands in his pockets, face blank and pausing. He looks like the Johnny Donghyuck remembers from before — not from the very beginning when everything was new and dazing but not now, when Johnny smiles and laughs and teases. Somewhere in the middle, when Donghyuck was still afraid of him and Johnny knew it.

This is a step back.

Donghyuck is hurt by it, foolishly.

“I’m sorry if I…” What exactly does Donghyuck want to apologize for? Johnny’s sadness? “I’m sorry if I led you on.”

Johnny blinks slowly “You didn’t.”

“Oh.” Donghyuck doesn’t know what to say and Johnny refuses to lead him. He supposes if he were here to apologize he should have spent more time thinking on why he feels guilty. Putting thought into the words would have been better than hovering on the precipice trying to find something to say.

“You might disagree with me,” Johnny says after a moment, “but I do know you. I feel like I know you.” There is something strangely stiff in him this morning. It’s unbecoming. “I know where you stand.”

Donghyuck bristles, despite himself. “And where is that?”

“Behind me,” Johnny says, still stoic like stone, “somewhere.” And then he grins. “If this were a race I would be winning.”

“A race to _what?_ ” Donghyuck demands. He thinks of Johnny’s words the night before and it frightens him. Thinking about the words makes Donghyuck think about the touching, and the kissing, and the way Donghyuck had wanted to melt into him forever — that also frightens him. His stomach rolls. His face flushes. “To my accepting your confession?”

Johnny doesn’t reply.

“Johnny…” Donghyuck shakes his head. It’s slightly too cold out here from Donghyuck’s pajamas. His skin is riddled with goosebumps. “A god loving a human...don’t you see how that doesn’t make sense? After all of these years you love me of all people, the person who saved you from being buried alive and gave you a house and...and a purpose?”

“Aren’t those things worth loving for?”

Donghyuck’s heart breaks and he hates it. “That’s not love that’s…” He swallows. “That’s devotion.” He takes a shaky breath. “They’re not the same.”

Johnny takes Donghyuck in, breathes him in completely, and that sad look in his eye is back. “No, they’re not. But they fit together nicely.”

If a heart could swell and ache at the same time, Donghyuck’s does. He hates this. He hates the way he wants to pretend like he accepts this, because he wants things he shouldn’t. He wants things that would hurt him.

Realizing the wanting was the first painful step. It tastes like bile.

“You don’t think that I know you, so you think I cannot love you.” Johnny chews on his lower lip in a way that has joined Donghyuck’s list of familiar things. “I suppose that’s fair, and I won’t be able to change your mind.”

Donghyuck laughs and it’s sad.

“But you do not have to know someone completely to love them, either,” Johnny says carefully. His hands are still in his pockets. Perhaps that’s why he seems so stiff; Donghyuck is used to him reaching out. “Can humans even know someone completely? Is it possible for you?”

“I don’t know,” Donghyuc admits. He’s forgotten the cold. “I think so.”

Johnny smiles, tight. “Humans can change in a moment. It’s a lot harder to move a mountain.”

“Don’t you understand, that’s my worry?” Donghyuck runs his hands through his hair. “You say you love me too quickly.”

“You moved me; does it matter the speed?”

Before Donghyuck can think of the words in his mouth — “What if you move back?”

Donghyuck has never been good at this sort of thing. His relationship with Jaemin was long and easy, and his relationships since then are short and hard and uncomfortable. This is somewhere between the two; it’s short but feels long, and it vacillates between easy and uncomfortable so quickly Donghyuck’s head spins.

Johnny does reach out then, one hand coming up to touch the underside of Donghyuck’s chin and hovers there, centimeters away. Like maybe he thought better of it. “Try and change me, if you like.” He shoves his hands back in his pockets and turns on his heels. “We’ll see how easy it is.”

Donghyuck watches Johnny’s back as he walks down the steps and heads towards the sidewalk. It’s a pretty day, despite the chill. He steps forward. “Where are you going, for real?” He holds onto the pillar of the porch, clings like a lifeline.

“I need to talk to a friend about your window,” Johnny says, pausing by the mailbox.

“My window?” Donghyuck remembers the ugly crack in it last night, that sharp sound of breaking. “I don’t mind that you broke it. It’s fixed now, anyway.” The glass is smooth like it was never any other way.

Johnny’s face goes dark. “I didn’t break your window.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Donghyuck huffs. “It doesn’t matter.” _Come back. Stay here._

“I’ll be back soon.” Johnny taps on the mailbox, a small sign of his own nervousness. “Maybe...maybe you should go visit your friend.”

Donghyuck frowns. He picks at the chipped paint on the wood absently. “Jaemin?”

“No, the other one. The one from the aquarium.”

“Renjun.” Sweet Renjun with the sharp tongue. Donghyuck hasn’t talked to him in ages, even before they ran into each other. “Why?” Why Renjun specifically? Why should Donghyuck go anywhere that isn’t work or back to bed where things are safe and nothing can hurt him except for this strange creature drumming rhythms on his mailbox?

“He might be able to shed light on things for you.”

“Are you suggesting I’m not seeing things clearly?”

“Yes.” Johnny laughs, and it’s too fond to be frustrated but Donghyuck feels the frustration anyway. “You don’t really believe I don’t love you. That’s not what you’re afraid of.”

“Then what?” Donghyuck asks, demands, between a beg and a challenge. “What am I afraid of?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Johnny waves over his shoulder and starts making his way down the street. “I hardly know you, after all.”

* * *

Despite himself, once Johnny brings up seeing Renjun it’s the only thing Donghyuck can think about. He goes back into the kitchen and feeds Dohee and makes the twins their lunch and finds Doyeon’s left shoe and he’s thinking about it. He hauls the kids into the car and fights with the ignition and he’s thinking about it.

About Renjun, about John, about the things that Donghyuck said and didn’t say.

John walking down the street and not staying when Donghyuck asked...perhaps that is Donghyuck’s biggest fear.

“Hyuckie…” Doyeon says from the back seat. “You missed the turn.”

“Oh.” Donghyuck shakes himself. “Sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “Mr. Jaehyun will still like us even if we’re late.”

“Mr. Jaehyun likes Duckie, not you,” Dongseok tells her.

Doyeon hits him and muffles his responding scream with chubby hands. “Mr. Jaehyun will like me eventually.”

Everything is fine and normal and familiar. Jaehyun waves when Donghyuck drops the babies off, but Jaehyun just reminds Donghyuck about the aquarium and here he is, thinking about Renjun again.

“Will you be picking them up later?” Jaehyun asks, leaning down into Donghyuck’s passenger side window with a big smile. He falters when he sees the look on Donghyuck’s face. “Is everything okay?”

Deep breath. “Yeah.” Donghyuck grins. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Donghyuck texts Renjun in the elementary school parking lot — _are you free today?_ — and gets a call within 30 seconds of it being sent. “Hello,” he sings when he picks up. “I’m lucky; the great Renjun rarely answers when I call.”

“I’m usually busy!” Renjun says with a huff. “I’m still busy, but I miss you or whatever.” He laughs and Donghyuck’s worries melt away. Renjun has always had that kind of calming effect, or at least he has since he went up the mountain.

The thought is a bit sobering. The world is so much bigger than it had seemed when they were in middle school, and yet everything is tighter. Donghyuck feels cramped in the car as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“I missed you too,” he says. “Do you want to hang out today?”

“Um...you see…” Renjun laughs again, and it’s that small embarrassed laugh that Donghyuck knows can only have one cause.

He snorts. “You’re getting dick, aren’t you?”

“No! Not...not at the moment, no.” Renjun talks to someone nearby, and Donghyuck wonders if Renjun’s sugar daddy has room for one more. Their relationship somehow seems less confusing than his own, even though Donghyuck has no idea what’s going on with them either. “He’s actually making brunch soon.”

“Brunch?” Donghyuck looks at the time. “Why do rich people eat lunch so early? It’s so early.”

“Rich people can eat whenever they want.” Renjun sniffs, and then there’s more mumbling. “He...really?” More conversation Donghyuck can’t quite make out. “He says you can join us, if you want? Is that weird?”

Donghyuck lets that sink in as he pulls up to the stop light. “Is it weird for your childhood friend to meet your sugar daddy you swear you aren’t dating?” He’s shocked by the offer he almost forgets to go when the light turns green. “It’s a little weird.”

“It’s a little weird.” Renjun hums. “You can come if you want. I can show off his house.”

“You’re at his _house?_ ”

“Well, we’re not going to hang out at my house! I have like four roommates and no one knows how to do the dishes.” _Come on, Donghyuck, think a little!_ “You’ve been to my house before, anyway. There’s no point in showing that off.”

It is weird. Renjun hasn’t even offered to allow his boy toy to share space with anyone important to him, as far as Donghyuck knows. Renjun’s parents don’t know about their relationship, and he only started truly sharing information about this guy fairly recently.

“You’re being careful, aren’t you?” Donghyuck asks.

“Of course.” Renjun has the nerve to sound offended. “I’m always careful.” A pause. “I’ll send you the address, okay?”

Donghyuck takes another deep breath, counting seconds. “Okay,” he decides. “Brunch sounds good.”

* * *

He isn’t sure what possessed him to agree to coming. Donghyuck has a plan for today that doesn’t involve rubbing elbows with people out of his league. “Is this guy royalty?” Donghyuck wonders when he reaches the gated community. The iron fence is beautifully crafted and tall, an insurmountable wall. Renjun gave him a code to get inside and the security guard gives him a nasty look before allowing him inside.

Is it the dirty clunker of a car? Is it Donghyuck’s bedhead? Is it the fact that he looks like a messy college drop out going nowhere in life? He suddenly understands why Renjun dresses so nicely. He wonders how many of those things were bought for him by other hands.

“This is going to be so awkward, isn’t it?” Donghyuck asks the air. There’s no way this guy is normal, even if Renjun likes him. What if Donghyuck gets propositioned?

Well, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

Although…

In some ways Donghyuck definitely already has a sugar daddy that he definitely does not accept presents from readily. He’s not sure he’s very suited for the lifestyle. The idea of sexual favors for gifts is—

Donghyuck thinks about kissing Johnny last night. He almost misses the turn into the right cul-de-sac. His face is bright red in the mirror.

This area bleeds old money, like my-father’s-father-invented-the-wheel type of money. All of the houses are huge and carefully maintained, the curb appeal incredible. This is the kind of neighbor people drive through to appreciate culture and feel bad about things they’ll bever achieve. An old couple are out on their porch watching Donghyuck’s old car drive by. He feels very much like he should have walked the ten miles here instead, but he doubts they’d like his pajama pants any better.

The address Renjun gave him is not the biggest house but it is the best maintained. The weather doesn’t suit a garden, but still things grow — asters and chrysanthemums and several other flowers that Donghyuck doesn’t know the names of — and the placement of everything is clearly thought out. It’s all stone, head-to-toe, and muted greenery until the sun decides to come out for good. The driveway is so long, almost foreboding. Donghyuck isn’t sure whether he should park at the top or the bottom, but he likes being annoying so he doesn’t mind blocking in a car or two.

He doubts he’ll be staying here for long, anyway. There’s no point in overstaying his welcome — he’ll sate his curiosity, eat, and leave before someone tries to force him to do so.

Renjun must hear the sound of the straining transmission. He opens the front door before Donghyuck fully gets out of the car. On the porch he looks quite small, drowning in a sweater that may or may not be his and holding himself tightly around the middle. He grins wickedly when he sees Donghyuck walk up. “Those are your early morning pants.”

“I was dropping the kids off at school,” Donghyuck admits. His pants are soft flannel and worn at the knees. “Do you think I’ll piss off your mysterious benefactor?”

“Probably, but I doubt it will be the pants.” Renjun draws Donghyuck closer and holds him tight.

It’s jarring — this is not the way their friendship is. They’re not outright affectionate. They prefer backhanded compliments and falling together when the moment calls for it, those wicked grins and earned moments. They are sharp with each other and hold hands. They don’t hug hello.

“I apologize about him, in advance,” Renjun says, pulling away.

“What a lovely way to start things off.” Donghyuck follows him inside.

While he takes his shoes off Donghyuck takes the moment to inspect the house. The ceilings are very high and the style is very old. There are paintings on the walls and antiques all over the house. All of the furniture looks very old, but none of it really fits together. It’s a bit of a collection, no rhyme or reason, but the spirit of it locks in like a puzzle piece. The light above Donghyuck’s head is horribly similar to a chandelier. Renjun laughs when he sees Donghyuck gaping at it.

“Does he have a rich friend?” Donghyuck asks, laughing.

Renjun suddenly looks shy. “He has a lifetime of rich friends.” He’s wearing shorts that hide under his sweater, and he scratches his thigh in a way Donghyuck has long learned means he’s nervous. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

It’s a long walk to the kitchen. The stairway is long and ornate, winding up to the second floor from the main room, polished dark wood. Potted plants are artfully placed. Donghyuck doesn’t have the patience to take care of all of these living creatures, but someone takes gentle and dutiful care. There are tapestries hanging along the walls the further they go into the house. Donghyuck marvels at golden threads before Renjun pulls him along.

Donghyuck isn’t sure what he thinks a rich person’s house would look like. It is, of course, a very nice house. There are fewer staff members around than Donghyuck might have expected — so far the only souls to be seen are Donghyuck and Renjun, and when Renjun finally ushers him into the fancy kitchen there is only one body there.

His first impression of the owner of the house is that he is not like what Donghyuck expected, much like the house itself. He stands at the stove and hums to himself, a pretty melody that sounds vaguely familiar. His shoulders are broad and his hair is jet black. His shirt is a bright and royal blue, pushed up to his elbows, and there’s an apron tied around his waist. He looks very young.

“Doyoung,” Renjun says, pushing Donghyuck bodily forward, “my friend is here.”

Doyoung turns around, and his face is also not what Donghyuck expected. He has a beautiful face, sharp eyes and a soft mouth. His features in general are angled and interesting. In this moment it is not a kind face, but Donghyuck thinks it could be.

Something about him is very heavy.

“Hello,” Doyoung says, inclining his head slightly. He doesn’t even look at Donghyuck’s pants, just greets him rather solemnly.

Donghyuck hurries to do the same. “Hello.” He clears his throat. “I’m Donghyuck.”

“I know.” Doyoung does smile then. It’s a pretty smile, changing his entire face a little softer.

“Oh.” Donghyuck brushes his sock feet against the wooden floor. “Did Renjun tell you?”

Doyoung smirks, just a subtle tilt to his mouth and a knowing look to his eyes. He turns back to whatever he’s cooking. “No.” Nothing else.

Renjun shuffles slightly, pushing Donghyuck down onto one of the bar stools. “You said you wouldn’t,” he whines. Donghyuck startles. He doesn’t think he’s heard Renjun whine very often in his life unless it’s at Jaemin. “You promised.”

“No, I didn’t.” Doyoung is not openly friendly, not quite cold, but there’s no feeling in his words. There’s no way to read which way he’s thinking. Donghyuck slumps on his bar stool to make himself small. “You know I always keep my promises.”

Donghyuck makes a face. “Gross.”

Renjun pushes him so he nearly falls. “Stop.” His face is red. “That’s not what he meant.” Carefully, he pulls himself up onto the chair and turns to watch Doyoung while he cooks something savory. The smells in the kitchen are divine. Honestly, this is the kind of kitchen where the appliances alone make Donghyuck salivate — not to mention the cupboard space — but the smell is incredible by itself. “He’s not usually like this,” Renjun tells Donghyuck, not bothering to whisper. “He’s grumpy.”

 _Why invite me over, then?_ Donghyuck wants to ask, but he settles for raising an eyebrow. Renjun knows what he means.

“He wanted to meet you.”

“Uh…” Donghyuck flicks his eyes over to Doyoung and asks a little louder, “why?”

Doyoung looks at him sidelong. “My whole family has been talking about you. I wanted to see what the fuss was about.”

Renjun huffs, pulling his heels up onto the stool and frowning at Doyoung.

Donghyuck pauses for a moment to see if someone might elaborate. “Your family?” he prompts, when it’s clear no one feels the need to continue.

Doyoung hums and cracks an egg in the pan. “You’ve met some of them.”

In this moment, Donghyuck presses his hands flat against the bar and squints into the side of Doyoung’s face, trying to calculate. Deep breath, tense shoulders, flat face — “Did we get along?”

“No.” The sizzling of the pan is not quite as loud as Donghyuck’s heartbeat, or the way Doyoung laughs at the thought. “No, I don’t think you did.”

“Maybe they should have been more polite,” Donghyuck replies coldly. There are very few people that Donghyuck has any true issues with. The options are limited, but even with a longer list there are some things that make it clear; Johnny’s reaction to meeting Renjun, Doyoung’s reaction to meeting Donghyuck, the warm buzz of something unbearably _more_ in the too-big kitchen.

Renjun is looking at them both between his fingers. He’s pouting, his body language completely defeated, and he shakes his head with a pursed mouth. “This is not a fun breakfast conversation.”

Donghyuck slides his hands further over the smooth top of the bar, pressing his shoulders down like a reset. Fix the posture, fix the heart rate. He glares at Renjun. “You’re dating a god and you didn’t fucking tell me?”

For all the oppressive and powerful atmosphere, Doyoung chokes on his own spit.

“We’re not dating,” Renjun says cooly, nonplussed.

“That’s not the _biggest_ part of that accusation but sure, we love clarity.” Donghyuck opens his palms, like he’s trying to grasp the right words. He looks at Doyoung as the man pours himself a cup of water from some fancy filtered dispenser. “You met him and you still didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t know he was a god at the time.” Renjun’s eyes flash. “I don’t have spidey-senses, Hyuck. Come on.”

“First Jaemin fucked a god, now you, I’m really…” Donghyuck is speechless.

Renjun delicately adjusts his sweater over his shorts. “Good things come in threes.”

Speechless. “Don’t be like that.” Donghyuck feels his face turn beat red. It does that too often lately. “I’m not fucking Johnny.”

“Really?” Doyoung clears his throat, cool eyes on Donghyuck like he himself hadn’t just gagged at being called Renjun’s boyfriend. “He’s all over you.”

“Well—”

Renjun pokes a spot on Donghyuck’s neck and pulls down the collar. “All over.”

Donghyuck slaps a hand over the bruise. “It was a mistake, okay?” He frantically adjusts his shirt, smooths his fingers so the cotton of his collar is laid nicely down over the mark. “We’re not fucking.” They’re not, and the implication that they are burns.

No one calls him out for sounding small, but the look on Renjun’s face says he wants to.

“Good,” Doyoung says, crisp. There’s smoke rising from the pan, and Donghyuck eyes it until Doyoung remembers he has something that could burn to attend to. “Gods and humans don’t mix well.”

Donghyuck snorts. “That’s rich.”

Renjun’s mouth is a tight line. “I saw the way you looked at him,” he says, and it’s not even coy. Renjun is always coy. “Doyoung and I aren’t like you and him.”

“Sure. You’re fucking and we’re not.” Donghyuck’s vision is running almost red. Is he angry? There’s too many things rolling around in his gut to properly pick them apart. Doyoung huffs and Donghyuck shakes his head. “It’s not like we’re in love.”

There’s a look of pity on Renjun’s face and disdain on Doyoung’s.

Donghyuck pushes himself up off the barstool, bare feet on the floorboards. His skin is hot like he’s about to boil over. Doyoung looks neither surprised nor bothered. “I shouldn’t have come.” Donghyuck’s stomach rolls. He puts his hands around his car keys and stalks towards the foyer.

Doyoung calmly takes the pan off the heat and wipes his hands on a cloth. “Why did you?”

A pause, mid step. “Renjun offered.” Still small. Donghyuck looks over his shoulder.

“You texted Renjun first, didn’t you?” It’s amazing that a face can look so cold.

Donghyuck stands awkwardly in the space between, too far away for conversation but not far enough to avoid being dissected and observed. “What’s it matter?” Petulant. He crosses his arms over his chest and feels like a child.

Johnny told him to hang out with Renjun so he did. He hung out with Renjun and now he met Doyoung, who is a god and is cold and modernized and nothing like Donghyuck’s god.

Doyoung hums. “Just wondering.” And back to cooking.

There’s something about gods that is so firmly grounded in cumulative knowledge and Donghyuck feels it at this moment — Doyoung knows exactly how humans work and he uses that because he can. Doyoung is rooted in power and Donghyuck’s feet are rooted to the floor.

Renjun picks up a piece of fruit and picks apart the orange rind. He licks his lips, and when he makes eye contact with Donghyuck he’s forlorn. Wide eyes and slumped shoulders.

Donghyuck looks at Doyoung again. “Why?”

“Maybe I have some of the answers you’re looking for,” Doyoung says, “but I can’t promise they’re the ones you want to hear.”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit.” Donghyuck grimaces. “I don’t put up with it from Johnny and I won’t put up with it from you.”

Doyoung frowns. “Johnny? How familiar.”

Donghyuck waves his hand. “John, whatever. Close enough.” It doesn’t matter. He holds his arms out, wide open. “You think I have questions? You think you know what I want to hear?” He wants to spit, face contorting in derision. “What is it with gods and thinking they know me?”

“Because…” Renjun stares wide-eyed at Donghyuck who stands hovering in the hallways. “They do.” He shakes his head, clenching and unclenching his hands in his laps to find the words. “They’re gods. We’re only humans. They know everything.”

“They don’t know _me._ ”

“Renjun…” Doyoung sighs, stepping away from his preparations and wiping his hands on a towel. Donghyuck watches him, unsure. “Will you finish cooking for me?”

Renjun also seems a bit lost, for what it’s worth, but he dutifully steps down from his seat on the barstool and rounds the bar into the kitchen while Doyoung washes his hands. The seconds tick, Donghyuck standing there staring, Renjun minding the skillet, and Doyoung finally steps into the hallway.

“Let’s take a walk,” he says carefully.

“I just want to go home,” Donghyuck replies, but Doyoung passes him without caring and Donghyuck follows because he can’t think of anything else to do. “You’re not very good at listening, are you?”

Doyoung is already at the front door now, slipping into a pair of shoes that are surprisingly dirty and worn compared to the rest of the house. “I’m very, very old,” he says simply. “It comes with the territory.”

“Johnny listens very well.”

There’s a pause, fingers still for just a moment before Doyoung continues tying his shoes. “That’s interesting.” He straightens up. Face to face in the well light foyer he seems much younger than he did before, much softer, less physically intimidating, but he’s looking down at Donghyuck and he isn’t hiding it. “I suppose you _can_ teach an old dog new tricks.” He pushes open the front door and steps onto the porch.

Hurriedly, Donghyuck pulls his own shoes on, the heels creased from night after night of taking out the trash. When he steps outside the sun is high and Doyoung is standing on the lawn, unimpressed.

“I said we can take a walk, not loiter around like we don’t have places to be.”

Donghyuck scowls at him, shielding his eyes from the blinding light and falling into step. Doyoung walks forward and Donghyuck looks towards his car, wondering one last time if he should leave without mincing words. Does he really want to hear what Doyoung has to say? Does he want to hear what Johnny couldn’t tell him himself?

They round the corner and all Donghyuck can see is wrought-iron and green.

“Gods have a bad habit of changing their surroundings,” Doyoung says, pushing the gate open. The hinges squeak a little and it’s jarring — the slightest hint of age. Donghyuck focuses on the offending hinge as he swings the gate shut. “We are vast, you know. We leave a heavy footprint.”

“I know that,” Donghyuck says. “It’s how you can sense each other so quickly.” He thinks back to two gods in Jaemin’s living room, the open book that was Mark Lee in a world where they should be strangers.

Donghyuck doesn’t need to be a god to see how Doyoung has changed the world around him — the garden of eden is behind his home.

It is not the carefully cultivated flat land that sits beside all the other houses. If Donghyuck looks around at others he might see a small garden contained in stone. Doyoung yard looks like it’s been returned to the earth, carefully overgrown in all the most beautiful ways. There is a small path of stone, a clear walkway painstakingly maintained, but on all sides are beautiful flowers that should not be blooming this time of year. More flowers than Donghyuck could name even with the help of a library, all bright purples and yellows and reds. Water pools in the center as they walk past. Trellises of roses hang over the walkway. The air smells sweet and clear. Can there be a natural pond in a plotted piece of land like this? Is this possible for a human, this kind of articulated wildness?

“Do you like it?” Doyoung asks, his hands in his pockets.

“I...yeah.” Donghyuck has a hard time finding his tongue. The water sings. There is not a brown leaf in sight, not a pest nor a weed.

Doyoung lifts his chin, proud.

Unlike when Donghyuck first met Johnny, Doyoung is a creature who has acclimated to the way of the world. His hair is cut short and his clothing is not trendy but classic. The fit is perfect. He looks like money, old money. Very sure of himself. Perhaps that’s also something that comes with time.

Donghyuck feels very out of place in his pajama pants.

“What is your favorite flower?” Doyoung asks suddenly.

“Um…” Donghyuck blinks, rubbing his hands on his thighs. “I like sunflowers.” They’re cute. They shine.

Doyoung hums, and the god tugs off the shoes he so recently put on and moves to stand barefoot in the grass. He wiggles his toes, and before the both of them a small sprout rises from the perfectly cultivated grass. Stem, then leaf, the sap, and the plant is quickly up to Doyoung’s waist, butter yellow blossoms unfolding into the sun.

It sways in the breeze. Donghyuck watches it dance, face neutral but breath held. “Plants?”

“Not exactly,” Doyoung says. He holds out his hand and a flower lands gracefully in his palm. “But the earth and I? We are very good friends.” The sunflower ripples between his fingers like a dog shaking it’s fur, and Doyoung holds the marvel out for Donghyuck to take.

Donghyuck does not move. A part of him knows better. “Is this a peace offering?”

“This? No. I quite dislike you.” Doyoung smiles. “But I do like showing off.”

Carefully, Donghyuck wraps his fingers around the thick green stem and feels the warm energy buzzing around the gift. The yellow of the petals is so pure.

Doyoung reaches down and picks up his shoes by the heel but makes no move to put them back on. “Gods change a lot around them and humans change very little,” he notes, his fingertips trailing over the petal of a tulip. “Our natures are the opposites; humans are not very steady, I’ve learned. Renjun changes his mind every day.”

“Not about things that matter.” Donghyuck clenches his fists. He’s always known Renjun to be steadfast, an anchor.

Doyoung raises his eyebrow. “Of course, about things that matter. He doesn’t know how he wants to pursue his wishes. He can’t decide what to eat for dinner or what time he should go home. He doesn’t know whether he wants children or not.” Doyoung doesn’t say it unkindly — if anything, this is the kindest he’s been. His face is soft at all angles. “He’s interesting. It’s interesting to note the changes. Gods don’t have that mentality.”

Casually, the human and the god walk the winding road through the garden. Doyoung is far more at ease here than he ever was in the kitchen. He is at ease with Donghyuck, not because of Donghyuck but because Doyoung knows that Donghyuck can do very little to him. His shoes are in his hands and where he steps flowers grow. It is a casual display of incredible magic, despite its softness.

“The earth is much softer than the storm,” Doyoung says, as though he could read Donghyuck’s mind. Perhaps he can. “Although I feel that in recent years John has softened and I’ve...not.”

“In recent years?” Donghyuck twirls the thick stalk of the sunflower between his fingers. “He was buried in the earth for half a millenia. Where was the earth’s softness then?”

It is something that has been bothering Donghyuck. For all the gods saying that Johnny is their family, they left him to rot on a mountain for too long to be either kind or negligent. So long it was cruel and nothing else.

For what it’s worth, Doyoung does look upset. “There is nothing we could do. We could plot, and wait for human hands, and that is all. Although some did try...more than others.”

None of that matters. “Did you try?”

Doyoung frowns. “I did not.”

“Then you don’t get to call him family.”

“There are ties far deeper than time. Watch your mouth.” Doyoung is not soft. “You don’t understand what John is throwing away for something like you. Five hundred years is a long time? It is nothing for us.”

It was a long time for Johnny. Sometimes Donghyuck can see it in Johnny’s eyes — it was a very long time. Gently, Donghyuck shakes his head. Gods can see so much and so little all at once. Donghyuck would rather see just a little, if that little mattered the most.

Doyoung deflates, smoothing down his hackles. “Sicheng’s message got across but we are not all happy to follow it.” The sun is shining overhead. Doyoung inspects the clouds and runs his hands atop a rose bush that should not be blooming but is. “You aren’t endearing yourself to us, and John knows what we’re capable of.”

Donghyuck grinds his teeth. This is not what he wants to hear. There is panic in his stomach, deep down, at the thought of Johnny ruining anything for Donghyuck’s sake. Johnny giving anything for Donghyuck’s sake. Even deeper than the panic there is fear. “I never asked him to do that.”

“Oh, but you should be thankful.” There is dirt on Doyoung’s fingertips. Miraculously none gets on his sweater, but despite him seeming rather upright Donghyuck doesn’t think he’d mind. He is too lost in this place, his attention pulled a million different places, and the conversation is his only anchor. “If he hadn’t, you still would not endear yourself, and there are others far more likely to destroy you just for fun.”

“For _what?_ ” Donghyuck demands. “I’m not holding him hostage!” Is he? “He can leave whenever he wants. Why would you…” His stomach drops deeper into that fearful place. He holds his head in his hands. “Am I really in danger?”

“Not from me.” Doyoung looks at Donghyuck with lazy eyes. “You’re human — mortal. In time you’ll die and our brother will return to us. I can be patient.”

“That’s true.” Donghyuck swallows and it feels like acid. This is, of course, one of his many fears. He will die inevitably, and so why would Johnny stay? Johnny has forever and Donghyuck has far less. “So...why come for me in the first place?”

“Have we?” Doyoung wipes the dirt off his hands. “You’re still in one piece, aren’t you?”

Donghyuck thinks of the crack in his window pane.

“I’ll admit, I’m more pragmatic than some.” Doyoung rolls dirt between his fingers. “Do be careful. I believe Renjun is fond of you, and I’d rather John not destroy another city.”

There is something in the back of Donghyuck’s mind as he looks at the god and then the garden and then the shining sun. Johnny admitted to destroying a city, even admitted to being willing to do it again, if Donghyuck asked. Donghyuck has seen fire in Johnny, but never like that. Destruction is not in line with how he views his god.

And yet he destroyed a city for someone he loved, and he’d do it for Donghyuck.

“Do you think he really loves me?” Donghyuck asks the sunflower.

“Don’t go down that road,” Doyoung warns. “It never ends well.”

Between the two of them, Doyoung would know. “Is this how you feel about Renjun?” Donghyuck asks. “You’re just waiting for him to die so your family can have you back?”

Doyoung does not sputter but if he were a younger man perhaps he would have. “My family still has me. Renjun and I are not in love — we only have a deal.”

Is that the line that’s drawn? Donghyuck shakes his head. The garden is not as pretty as it was a moment ago because Donghyuck’s thoughts are much darker. “You’re right that Renjun is fond of me,” he says, resisting the urge to pluck leaves off of trees. “I know all about your deal.” He knows Renjun is the one keeping it casual. He knows Renjun declined moving in with Doyoung only a month ago. He knows Doyoung is more in love than he’d like to admit, because Renjun knows it and has worried about it to Donghyuck many a time.

Sometimes being pragmatic isn’t enough to stop yourself.

Doyoung looks at Donghyuck, and for once he seems vulnerable — not in the way that Donghyuck could crush his heart if he wished, but in the way that Doyoung might crush his own heart.

He looks down the path. “Humans and gods are not meant to be together.”

Donghyuck thinks maybe Doyoung is waiting for Renjun to die so that he can return to his family, but he also thinks Doyoung will not be happy when it happens.

Is this really what Johnny wanted him to hear?

“If there was a way...would you fight for him?”

Doyoung laughs. “There are many ways, but most would change him, and that’s not what he wants. Or they would change me, and that is not easily done.”

Donghyuck does not want to be changed, but he’s not sure he can stop something that has already happened. “Would you rather he left on his own?”

Perhaps this is the million dollar question. Donghyuck watches Doyoung’s jaw clench and knows something has snagged. “I...it would be better for him, maybe.” Daisies are blooming around his bare feet, reaching for him from around the cobblestones, and Doyoung seems surprised to see them there. “But I am selfish. Who knows? Maybe I would beg him to stay.”

Doyoung does not pick the daisies the way he picked Donghyuck’s sunflowers — or rather, if he does Donghyuck does not stay to see him.

“Gods are not so different from humans,” Donghyuck says like the dawn. He twists the flower stem between his fingers one more time before turning on his heels, letting the flower fall gently to the earth. “None of us can ever get shit right.”

* * *

Donghyuck does not end up staying.

He isn’t sure he truly dislikes Doyoung, and is equally unsure of whether Doyoung truly dislikes him, but staying here is uncomfortable. He’s not sure he was ever really supposed to stay for brunch in the first place. If Johnny wanted Donghyuck to come to the realization that gods are also emotional wrecks, he didn’t need the help. Johnny might be steadfast but he feels far more than Donghyuck is comfortable allowing himself.

_Maybe I would beg him to stay._

A horrible part of Donghyuck’s heart knows Johnny would beg and an even smaller, darker, more desperate part thinks Donghyuck would say yes.

“I’m sorry,” Renjun says, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Donghyuck try to pull himself together enough to start the car. His lips are pursed, chewing on a thought, and Donghyuck thinks about Doyoung saying Renjun changes his mind every day. “He can be abrasive sometimes.”

Doyoung’s abrasiveness is not the thing that has Donghyuck’s hands shaking. Donghyuck himself is not sure what has his hands shaking, if he’s honest. He rolls his car keys between his fingers. “Is he that way to you?”

Renjun smiles, mildly regretful. “No,” he admits. “Never.”

Donghyuck bites his lip.

“He’s a good man with baggage.” Renjun shrugs. “I’ll trade the baggage for the money.”

“And the dick?” Donghyuck grins.

Renjun wrinkles his nose, but the levity is welcome, even if there’s worry in the corners of his eyes. He gets that from Jaemin. “Don’t think too hard about getting dick, huh? You’re as sexually frustrated as I’ve ever seen you.”

“The imprint of my babies are in the car,” Donghyuck says wryly, but he doesn’t deny anything. “Refrain from being disgusting in its presence.”

“Never stopped me before,” Renjun argues, “but I’ll apologize to the residual spirits.”

Neither one of them moves.

“You can still come in and eat, you know.”

Donghyuck looks far away, at the stone walls and the house and then through it into unknown territory. “Yeah.” He swallows. “I just know I’ll say something I’ll regret.”

“Under other circumstances I think he’d like you,” Renjun admits, his arms still crossed tightly over his body. His grin is wicked. “You and I are really similar.”

In more ways than one, Donghyuck has to agree. Thinking about Renjun’s budding relationship with the divine, Donghyuck thinks they have more in common than ever. Renjuns shoulders are more relaxed and his spirit is easy. Donghyuck can’t remember the last time he’d truly melted into the floor.

Well, he can remember but the ending of that moment makes him shudder. He’d rather not cry again, if possible. He isn’t sure he’s recovered emotionally from his exhaustive breakdown — or the look on Johnny’s face when he’d returned to the bedroom. Thinking about it is like a nail on a raw nerve.

“Renjun,” he asks quietly, staring at himself in the awkward angle on the car side mirror. “What happened when you went up that mountain?”

Renjun looks surprised, which is surprising in and of itself. “You haven’t asked me about that since it happened.”

“Well.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “It’s kind of pertinent now.”

“I was led up the mountain and I didn’t find a god,” Renjun says, which is generally what he’s always said with more weight because now Donghyuck knows it’s true. He scratches the back of his neck. “I know it lasted for several days but it didn’t really feel like that.”

“Why do you think you didn’t find him?”

Renjun shakes his head. “I don’t know.” He picks at the hair at the base of his neck, a nervous tick. “I asked Doyoung about it — he always says I’ve been blessed for trying, but some things only happen when they’re meant to happen.”

Donghyuck’s stomach is like an ocean at high tide. “Like meeting Doyoung?”

“Or meeting John,” Renjun fires back, and then he softens. “But yes, I think that was the right moment.”

They really are too similar. Renjun feels like someone who is further along in a game Donghyuck is just starting to play. Donghyuck doesn’t even know the rules.

Donghyuck meets Renjun’s eyes, unusually somber. “Do you love him?”

Renjun sighs. “I do,” he says, with a gentle grin and a small shake of his head. “Just not in a forever way.”

In a way, Donghyuck pities Doyoung.

“Would you stay if he asked?”

“He has asked.” Renjun looks not quite sad. “I stay because I want to. One day he’ll ask and I’ll say no. He knows that.”

Donghyuck’s car keys are pressing indents into the palm on his hand. “Maybe he thinks you’ll change your mind.”

Renjun is unphased. “That’s on him. All I can do is make my right decision in the moment. For now I want to stay.” He gives Donghyuck a cocky grin, one that’s far more familiar — they are not serious friends. They bicker and bruise and are merry. “What do you want?”

Isn’t that the question. Donghyuck rubs his hands over his face. “I want to sleep for a million years.” He’s tired. He didn’t sleep well the night before. His head is aching and the hem of his pants are soggy and covered in dirt.

“You should talk to Johnny about that,” Renjun chides, and it’s a joke but it’s a little too close to home. “Just talk to him. You talk to Nana all the time, even when you were dating. You weren’t nearly so constipated.”

“It’s my new diet of supernatural shenanigans,” Donghyuck bites, although admittedly Renjun is right. He used to let Jaemin know exactly what he was feeling at any moment. When he was young he was more volatile, but that doesn’t work for him as an adult. “But I trust Jaemin.” With his body and his heart and his feelings.

“Don’t you trust your god?”

“I don’t know.” Donghyuck thinks he does for all the things that matter. He’s not sure if he trusts Johnny enough for this.

Renjun raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to?”

Donghyuck doesn’t reply.

“The dick is really good,” Renjun says, all sharp teeth, “if that helps you.”

“Alright, goodbye.” Donghyuck opens up his car door and slips into the driver’s seat. “Tell Doyoung thanks for being a shit head and tell him not to break your heart for me.”

Renjun laughs. “Worry for his heart instead.”

Donghyuck turns on the car and rolls down his window for parting remarks. “Don’t break him too much or his family will get you.”

Renjun looks at Donghyuck with something too complicated to name. “I’m blessed by the universe. Let them try.”

“Damn, okay then.” Donghyuck shakes his head with a fond huff. “Wish I had some of that.”

Donghyuck pulls out of the driveway and Renjun doesn’t wave, just stands there on the concrete in his giant shirt and tiny shorts and looks at Donghyuck until he can’t see him anymore.

He sighs. “Do you think it will work out?” he asks, and when he turns around Doyoung is standing in the doorway with a daisy in his hands.

“I don’t know,” Doyoung admits. He hands Renjun the daisy, and Renjun walks up the porch to take it delicately from his hands. Doyoung kisses Renjun’s knuckles and Renjun tucks the flower behind his ear. “I hope so. For John’s sake.”

* * *

Donghyuck returns the car to his mother and Johnny is still not home.

He takes the bus to work. He thinks about pulling Johnny’s hair on the bus that first day. He thinks about Johnny every time someone gets a little too close to him. He thinks about the way gods change the world around them just by entering a room or putting down roots. Donghyuck feels like he’s changed.

“You look like hell warmed over,” Seungyeon says when Donghyuck clocks in.

“Hell wishes,” Donghyuck says, but it’s the truth.

“Take it easy, okay?” She hands him his apron and ruffles his hair. “If you feel too tired just make Jimin do it.”

There’s a muffled _hey_ from further back in the kitchen. Donghyuck ties the apron around his waist and hums appreciatively. “I’d like a distraction,” he admits. He’s been thinking about the past twenty four hours on repeat, circling around himself until he’s dizzy and the earth is spinning the other way. He thinks about Renjun and the mountain and Doyoung and Johnny, and when he thinks about Johnny he thinks about kissing Johnny, and when he thinks about kissing Johnny he thinks about Johnny being in love with him and then he wants to cry.

Shitty customers and mediocre food will not make him cry.

“Jimin can distract you, too,” Seungyeon assures him. “His roommate just had a super fucked hookup. You should ask him about it.” It’s a form of solidarity.

The shift it’s so bad, although Donghyuck feels like he’s dragging his feet. He’s tired in a way he hasn’t been for months, although this used to be his baseline. It’s crazy how this would normally be a good level to start at, and now he’s been so spoiled it feels like trudging through the mud.

“You look terrible,” Jimin tells him halfway through the night. “Is the sugar daddy bringing you down?”

Donghyuck laughs so hard he nearly drops the platter he’s holding. “More like I’m bringing the sugar daddy down and I feel really bad about it.”

Jimin snorts. “If you feel bad about it that’s not a sugar daddy, baby.” He takes one of the platters off Donghyuck’s hands. “That’s something else.”

Yeah. Donghyuck really thinks it is.

He’s counting his tips at the end of the night as fast as he can, one eye on the clock while he and Nayeon do math for an even split. It was a later shift with a late out time. The bar closed nearly an hour ago, and the final customers trailed out of the restaurant slightly buzzed about fifteen minutes prior.

“I can give you a ride if you need one,” Nayeon offers, after asking if Donghyuck brought the car today.

Nayeon lives on the other side of town. “That’s fine.” He looks at his phone — a notification from Jeno (a picture of his cats) and approximately two minutes passed the last time he checked. “The last bus isn’t for another 40 minutes.” That’s plenty of time. They’re almost done.

“Hey, your boyfriend is here,” Nayeon says later while Donghyuck is shoving bills in his wallet and trying to pull on his jacket at the same time.

Donghyuck blinks at her, cheeks red. “My what?”

“Oh, is this Sugar Daddy?” Jimin asks, playing rhythm games on his phone. His shift ended before final call but he usually drives home with his roommate who works late nights at the 7/11 next door.

“I don’t know — he didn’t give me a name,” Nayeon said, pulling her ponytail through the back of her cap. There’s melted cheese on her sleeve. She pulls on a sweatshirt that smells like cheap laundry detergent. “He just asked for Hyuck. Said he wanted to walk you home.”

“Oh?” Jimin whistles. “A gentleman.”

Nayeon raises her eyebrows appreciatively. “He’s like, super hot. Not very old though, for a sugar daddy.”

“That’s probably him,” Donghyuck says, hurrying to collect his things. Johnny has never shown up at work before. His face feels hot. “He’s...yeah. He’s older than he looks.”

Nayeon scoffs. “He can’t be _sugar daddy_ old.”

Donghyuck throws his bag over his shoulder. “Well...it’s complicated.”

“He’s hot. I don’t care.” She pulls her lanyard out of her back pocket. “Come on,” she says, tugging Jimin up from where he is sitting by the collar. “I need to lock up the front so the kitchen can finish night prep. I’ll walk you out.”

“You don’t have to pull me,” Jimin whines. “I want to see, too.”

Donghyuck has very little time to prepare himself before Jimin throws the front doors open. Is he excited to see Johnny? Does it feel weird? His stomach is swooping. He thinks about Johnny standing comfortably on the front curb waiting for him and hides behind Jimin, a feat considering Jimin is not a lot to hide behind.

“Hello there,” Jimin chimes, his voice a sweeter note than usual. “What are your intentions with our baby?”

Donghyuck peers around Jimin’s shoulder.

It is not Johnny.

The man’s hands are in his pockets — his jacket is well tailored and he’s too handsome to be normal, but beyond that he doesn’t look so different from the other regulars. His hair is styled back from his forehead, not a strand out of place, and he doesn’t smile even a little bit when he looks at Donghyuck. He is beautiful, even in the moonlight. His hair has grown longer since the last time Donghyuck saw him. It’s a bit shocking. Sicheng being here at all is shocking.

“Oh,” Donghyuck says, and he tries his best not to deflate. The way Nayeon looks at him as she struggles with the door implies he’s not successful. “What are you doing here?”

 _Aren’t you happy to see me?_ Sicheng asks, but his face is flat. Still, Donghyuck can assume he’s amused.

“This is Sicheng. He’s…” Donghyuck adjusts the strap of his bag uncertainly. “He’s one of Johnny’s friends.”

“Oh.” Jimin rakes his eyes up and down. Sicheng stands under the appreciative gaze like a statue, unbothered. “So—”

“Isn’t Taehyung waiting for you?” Donghyuck interjects, putting his hands firmly in his pockets so the other two won’t see him fidgeting.

“Oh, fuck.” Jimin checks his phone and looks at the time. “Yeah. He gets off soon.”

Nayeon pushes Jimin aside. “You need to leave soon if you want to catch your bus,” she says to Donghyuck, eyeing Sicheng. “Unless you drove?”

Sicheng shakes his head. He looks at Donghyuck for a short moment — just enough to set Donghyuck on edge — before holding out his elbow.

Donghyuck stares at it.

“Goodnight, okay?” Nayeon kisses his cheek. “Text me if you...need anything.” She glances at Sicheng one last time before she pulls away.

“Okay, thanks again.”

Donghyuck watches Nayeon shove Jimin down the sidewalk and around the corner. When he looks back Sicheng is still there, elbow still held out in offering.

 _You’ll miss your bus_ , Sicheng says. Or thinks. Or however it works.

“Gods don’t drive?’ Donghyuck doesn’t take Sicheng’s elbow but he walks in the direction of the bus stop and Sicheng dutifully follows. It’s unnerving. Donghyuck forces himself to take even strides.

_I’ll bring my motorcycle next time._

Privately, Donghyuck thinks that if they saw Sicheng on a motorcycle both Jimin and Nayeon would jump the god where he stands. “Next time?” Sicheng had not been particularly friendly the last time they met, nor had he been hateful. A very mild inbetween, tilted in Johnny’s favor.

Sicheng is quiet for a moment. _I’m doing John a favor._

Donghyuck narrows his eyes. “What kind of favor?”

_That kind that makes sure you get home in one piece._

The night air is chilly, but Donghyuck doesn’t need any help with his goosebumps. Doyoung’s voice plays in his head — _You’re still in one piece, aren’t you?_ He scowls. “Am I really in that much danger that I need to be babysat?”

Sicheng is quiet again.

“I hate this.” Donghyuck runs his hands through his hair and finds it’s greasy. He smells like french fries and booze. “I don’t need this in my life. I have other things to deal with.”

 _It’s just a walk home_ , Sicheng points out, not surprised at Donghyuck rancor. Donghyuck wonders if Johnny prepared him for it. _It’s late. Company is better._

“Next time I throw a party I’ll invite you.” It’s snippy. Sicheng takes it well. “Do gods RSVP?”

 _No._ Sicheng grins.

It’s awkward, at the bus stop. There’s no one else there at this time of night other than a young man sleeping on the park bench while he waits. Donghyuck wishes that was him. His bones ache.

The silence is stiffening. Sicheng is a god of language but rarely speaks — can’t speak, in the traditional sense. “How did you ask Nayeon for me?” he inquires. He hadn’t thought about it until this moment.

Sicheng holds up his hand and wiggles his fingers. He hadn’t spoken to Donghyuck before touching him. He supposes a handshake is enough to establish a link.

“She would have noticed your mouth not moving.”

 _In the dark? In the early morning?_ Sicheng clicks his tongue and the noise is a bit jarring. The only other sound is the humming of streetlights and bugs. _Humans always overestimate themselves._

Perhaps they do.

“What are you protecting me from?”

Sicheng looks at Donghyuck and says nothing.

“Where is Johnny?” Donghyuck tries again. The other man has been gone for the entire day. He’s assuming that Sicheng is the one who Johnny went to talk to this morning.

Sicheng still doesn’t reply. Clouds rumble.

Donghyuck swallows. “Is he okay?” It’s hard to say what Donghyuck is asking. Johnny is too strong to be in danger from his family, but Donghyuck himself clawed him apart. He can’t get the image of Johnny sitting defeated on their shared bed out of his mind.

 _He’s strong,_ Sicheng says. _Of course he will be okay._

The bus pulls up not long after. Donghyuck swipes his card and is only mildly surprised when Sicheng climbs the steps behind him. He has a specialty card, the one they sold for Valentine’s day last year. It doesn’t look well used.

It feels like a lifetime ago, when Donghyuck helped Johnny count his coins.

Donghyuck takes a seat and Sicheng sits opposite him, a clear sign that talking is discouraged. Donghyuck agrees — they’re not the only ones on the bus, although there are very few, and the atmosphere is a liminal space that might break with the right sound.

Sicheng does not look comfortable. He sits in his plastic seat with a back like a bowstring, and as relaxed as he’d looked on the steps of Donghyuck’s workplace here he looks like a doll waiting to be posed.

Donghyuck laughs to himself. There is something _very_ funny about a god on a bus.

 _Your friend loves you a lot,_ Sicheng says when the bus pulls away.

Donghyuck raises his eyebrow.

_Nayeon. She worries about you so much. It’s funny._

“What do you mean?” Donghyuck asks as softly as he can. An old lady with glitter in her hair looks at him only slightly oddly, and then goes back to her crossword puzzle. To her it looks like Donghyuck is talking to himself, but he will likely never see her again. “How would you know?”

Sicheng wiggles his fingers again.

Donghyuck stares at it without comprehension.

This is the first true moment of surprise Donghyuck has seen on Sicheng. _Did John not tell you?_

There is something foreboding in Donghyuck’s stomach. He shakes his head.

Sicheng holds up his hand. _To touch a human is to see their entire being in that moment. It is...complete understanding._

Donghyuck’s heart beats once, twice, so strong he rocks with it. He pushes it down out of his throat. “Oh.” His hands tighten around his bag. “ _Oh._ ” That’s not good. That’s not good at all. Donghyuck’s brain moves three times too slow, like it’s pushing through sludge.

Sicheng looks at Donghyuck thoughtfully. _You are angry._

He is angry. “Do you know that because you read my fucking mind?”

 _No._ _It is only a moment. If I touched you I would know. I am not touching you, so I am making an educated guess._

It is late at night. The streetlights pass by in a steady rhythm. Donghyuck’s heart tastes like bile. He is too tired to truly understand. “Whatever.” He rubs his forehead. There are so many times he has touched and been touched without thinking. It’s a part of who he is, something he craves. He thinks of Johnny digging his fingers into Donghyuck’s skin and does not feel heated in the same way he was before. He is carefree with his touching — it is clear that was also a mistake.

There are many things that do not make sense and that Donghyuck is not capable of making sense of. He’s heard too many things and can’t sort through another tangle.

Sicheng tilts his head at him. He looks a bit like a dog through the red of Donghyuck’s vision. _Would you like me to apologize?_ Sicheng does not look like he wants to apologize. He looks bored.

Donghyuck nearly bites his tongue, he’s so snappish. “Save it.” Sicheng is not the one who touched him the most. His hands grip the strap of his bag too tightly.

The rest of the ride is passed in silence. Donghyuck stares out the window and Sicheng watches the woman write her crossword puzzle. The flesh on Donghyuck’s arms tingle. He’s too exhausted to think. He holds his head in his hands.

Truly, what an exhausting day.

_Come._

Donghyuck only notices the bus has stopped when Sicheng stands up. The god does not offer Donghyuck his elbow this time.

“Don’t speak,” Donghyuck says when they step out on the asphalt, tugging his bag back over his shoulders. “I don’t need any more information today. I’d rather die.”

 _Alright,_ Sicheng allows. From one bus stop to another, Sicheng still looks a bit otherworldly. There’s something about the way that Sicheng visually should fit into this space and yet doesn’t.

The black cat is waiting on the bench.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes at her, flicking her tail. Her eyes are particularly yellow in the lamplight.

“Mreow,” she says, completely unimpressed.

 _Hello,_ Sicheng says, inclining his head slightly.

“Fuck off,” Donghyuck grumbles. He feels like a mess, like he’s been gutted and stuffed with something corrosive instead, hung out to dry in the boiling sun — too tight, too full, too empty, too tired. His head hurts. The cat licks her paws and ignores him. “This cat is all over the place.”

Sicheng nods. _I’ll say goodnight._

Donghyuck is patting the cat’s head when he looks over his shoulder, hesitant. “I’m not home yet.” Not that he wants Sicheng to follow him home, it just seems silly to stop halfway.

_You’re safe enough._

The cat hops off of the bench and stretches, teeth sharp, tail lazy. She blinks up at Donghyuck and he has traumatic flashbacks of chasing her through the aquarium.

“Don’t you have an old lady to attend to?” Donghyuck asks her.

“Mreow.”

Sicheng is long gone by the time Donghyuck remembers he is angry and Sicheng is the closest target. It’s too late to fight anyway. The wind is too cold, biting at the edges of Donghyuck thin jacket. Every third light post is broken. Glass glitters on the side of the road. The clouds are dark. He’d like to sleep.

“Well.” He sighs, looking at the cat. “Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (◡‿◡✿)


	8. by grounded and giving and darkening scorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have never felt this way before,” Johnny says, words rich with desperation. “I have never felt so drawn to something and so pushed away. I have never...I don’t understand.” His chin quivers and he growls, like the movement insults him. “I thought I was doing right by you. I thought I knew what to give to you.”
> 
> Donghyuck takes a deep breath. “You said you’d been in love before.” Johnny should know.
> 
> “I was.” Johnny also takes a deep breath, turning his face to the sky. “They loved me back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the bitch is back and i am a bitch, you do the math
> 
> sorry for the brief hiatus! work started back up for me and my mental health has taken a very big blow and i've compensated for that by writing like 200 words across seven projects for the past two months. i'm very sorry! i cannot promise you that the next update will be speedy but the content will be easier than this one so i'm hopeful. thank you for your patience and please continue to be patient with me ^^
> 
> thanks to ELLIE who helped me figure shit out and also appia who helped as well, and also also any and mon and the entire tl who listened to me whine for approximately 60 days

“I’m impressed by your work.”

Donghyuck smiles tightly. “Thank you, ma’am.” The chair is a little too short for the desk and Donghyuck is too tired to adjust his poor posture to see over the piles of books and paperwork. He rocks back and forth on the chair’s one wobbly leg. 

His advisor flips through the files with a small huff. “Although given the circumstances, you probably could have relaxed.” She goes by the name Miss Mary, despite Donghyuck being almost certain her name is not Mary and that she has not been a _miss_ for some time. Her hair is fire-engine red with a harsh gray racing stripe down the middle. She looks at Donghyuck over the rim of her glasses, a plastic pair that’s been bedazzled by her very excited granddaughter. Donghyuck isn’t sure the granddaughter is old enough to properly bedazzle anything, but Miss Mary seems to appreciate the efforts. “This is a better application that I’ve seen all year and you already got into the program once, you know.”

Miss Mary had been Donghyuck’s advisor before his illicit gap year turned extended leave. He’d always thought she was a little flaky but he didn’t dread his meetings with her the way some of his friends dreaded theirs. She was good at her job if you were able to nail her down. He’d been mildly surprised when she’d been the one to push his applications through — their program is large and Donghyuck was just one disappointment of many.

She’s working through his writing and paperwork today. He’d finally finished all of his essays and his portfolio last week, and she’d asked to see him in person to look over everything. Donghyuck recognizes his dented folder from his freshman year; the first meeting they’d had she spilled coffee all over it. The poor thing is warmed and smells like roasted Colombian. 

“I just...I wanted to be certain,” Donghyuck admits. There are other reasons he worked too hard on something he realizes now he was guaranteed to pass — the irrevocable proof that he could have done it without help, that he deserved it on his own merit, that he was capable of producing work he was proud of without assistance. He laughs at himself just a little. His poor family, putting up with him.

God, he is so tired.

“The dean loves you,” Miss Mary is saying, marking up old documents. Donghyuck’s place of residence has not changed, nor his marital status, although he’d blushed when she asked and she’d noticed. “The program would really benefit from having you back. Mr. Qian was so sad to see you go. He’ll be thrilled.”

Donghyuck doesn’t say anything. The dean knew him by name, which was no small feat, but Donghyuck was never truly a favorite. His attention was always too split to focus on what the school thought mattered, never active enough or prepared enough or thoughtful enough. Even now, his thoughts are elsewhere.

Johnny did not come home last night. 

The cat walked Donghyuck all the way to the front gate, quiet company on the foggy streets from the bus stop to his rickety front door. Donghyuck was too exhausted to say anything, and he doubted the cat cared about his day or his thoughts or his fears or the information Sicheng had left him with. She just padded beside him until he reached the fence, watching yellow-eyed as Donghyuck wrestled with the door knob and finally locked the door behind him. When he looked out the window, she was already sauntering away, a job well done.

A part of Donghyuck had not wanted to go inside at all. His mother left the porch light on, left the lamp on the front table shining. When he’d twisted it off the whole house seemed steeped in darkness, far too quiet. He entered his bedroom and there was no god on his bed.

He’d sat awake far too long thinking and worrying about someone who could absolutely take care of himself.

Donghyuck thought about far too much — he doesn’t know when he closed his eyes but the dreams were dark and anxious.

In the morning, his mother confirmed that Johnny hadn’t returned at all since he left the house the morning before. Sicheng mentioned speaking with him yesterday, but otherwise Donghyuck hasn’t heard anything about Johnny since Johnny left him on the porch.

A part of him cannot believe Johnny would willingly stay away, but Donghyuck hadn’t imagined Johnny would willingly leave either. The incredible disappointment he felt when walking into his bedroom and finding that space empty…

In such a short amount of time Donghyuck already expects Johnny to be there always. 

“Donghyuck?”

Donghyuck blinks, pulling himself away from his own head. He’d been staring out the tiny window in Miss Mary’s office. “Oh. I’m sorry.” The sun shines outside and there are students milling about, seemingly carefree although Donghyuck knows from personal experience that can’t be true. He clasps his hands in his lap, lightly kicking his bag by his feet. “It’s just a pretty day outside.”

Miss Mary looks at the courtyard and hums. “Yes, I suppose it is. We’ve had a lot of rain recently.”

Donghyuck’s palms are sweaty. “Yes.”

“I quite like the rain,” she admits. “But the sun is nice, too.” She organizes the papers and slips them back into the coffee-flavored folder. “Everything seems to be in order. I’ve noted a couple of things to change on your application, but other than that document I mentioned—”

“I’ll get it to you by the end of the week.”

She nods. “It shouldn’t hold up the process at all. I’ll just need it before we enroll you in your courses. We can set up another meeting whenever everything is all settled.” She smiles, all gums. “I’ll send this off to the Registrar for you.”

Donghyuck stands up from the too-short chair and holds out his hand. “Thank you so much.”

Her palms are also sweaty, so she doesn’t point out any of Donghyuck’s nervous tics. “It’s not a problem. This really has been a far easier process than usual. Nothing’s been lost or forgotten a single time; consider yourself lucky!”

“Ah...yes.” Donghyuck clears his throat. “Very lucky.” Or very favored. 

Jeno is waiting in the lobby when Donghyuck makes his way down the stairs. “You’re done already?”

“Yeah.” Donghyuck adjusts his bag on his shoulders. It’s an old backpack with rips in the lining, but it holds things just fine. He’s had it since high school and had to dig it out of the twins’ closet this morning. “She said since all of my paperwork was good and I already made it in once everything should go smoothly.”

“Good ole Mary.” Jeno grins. He stretches when he stands up, more and more like a cat every day. He’s lost a lot of weight preparing for his school showcases and the concert with his dance company. If Donghyuck remembers his habits well, Jeno is probably living off of canned tuna and protein shakes until his schedule lifts. “She’s right, you know.”

Jeno was not one of Donghyuck’s closest friends when they were at school together, but Jeno is more stubborn than his passive nature suggests and also determined to make sure Donghyuck is doing well at any given moment. Donghyuck blames Jaemin for making Jeno worry, but he won’t say he doesn’t enjoy Jeno’s energy in his life. He’s calm and gentle and knows when to take things seriously and when to force other people to stop taking things seriously. And he doesn’t pity Donghyuck, which Donghyuck is learning is something he worries about.

“At least this is something you don’t have to worry too much about,” Jeno says, pulling his bag over his shoulder. “You seem to be really stressed out about it.”

“Yeah.” Donghyuck laughs. If only Jeno knew — this is the least of his worries.

In truth, he did feel better about it in the morning. The past couple of days have been so full of thoughts and fears and worries and stress, all about things that Donghyuck never imagined he’d have to be concerned about. His old daily stressors were enough, weren’t they? These new things to consider are so heavy.

Donghyuck is tired of carrying them around.

They exit the building arm in arm. Donghyuck sees some students he recognizes and more that he doesn’t, but the buildings are the same and the feel is the same. It’s nostalgic, even if it hasn’t been so long. 

“Where do you want to get lunch?” Jeno asks, checking his watch. There’s an umbrella in his hand — _since the weather has been so unpredictable lately,_ is what he said when Donghyuck asked about it. “I can swipe you in the caf?”

Donghyuck wrinkles his nose without thinking.

“We can go off-campus if you want,” Jeno says, laughing. He checks his watch. “I have a class at 1:15, though.”

“The caf is fine.” Donghyuck scratches his head. “It will be like I’m a real student again,” he says with a laugh, despite barely eating in the cafeteria while he was here. The meal plan was too expensive and he always ended up either bringing food from home or skipping lunch altogether.

Jeno leads them both up the sidewalk to the student center. He grins at a cluster of girls who wave in their direction but doesn’t stop to say hello. “You’ll be a real student again soon.” 

There are a lot of things that have changed since Donghyuck was here last, but most of them are internal. The buildings still crumble and the students still laugh, but Donghyuck has discovered an entirely new world. Dohee didn’t exist the last time he stepped on this campus. Donghyuck still had both parents. A lot has changed. 

Dark clouds roll in. Donghyuck stares at the sky because he knows what it means.

“Uh, Hyuck.” Jeno halts, pulling Donghyuck to a jerking stop. “Do you know that guy?”

Donghyuck knows who it is before he looks, but the lurching of his heart still sends him off balance.

At the edge of the courtyard is Johnny. His hair is down, curling around his shoulders, and he’s wearing a shirt that is so big he drowns in it. His pants are too wide around the ankles and he’s wearing socks with his sandals. It’s funny — when Johnny is dressed like this Donghyuck thinks he looks like a college kid, but seeing him here only emphasizes how out of place he is.

Even though Donghyuck somehow knew Johnny was here, he doesn’t feel prepared in the slightest. The fire that zips through him destroys nerves, his own lightning. He’s confused and angry, and tired of being both. 

Donghyuck clenches his jaw. “Yeah,” he says. “I know him.”

Jeno seems hesitant to walk forward, but now that Johnny and Donghyuck have made eye contact there’s no stopping the conversation that’s about to come. He follows behind Donghyuck who marches forward with far more gusto than he feels. Donghyuck’s chin is too high when he pulls Jeno down the sidewalk to where Johnny is waiting for them. 

For a long moment, it’s silent. The only sound is Donghyuck’s heart boiling.

There is the feeling of drinking in. This has been the longest they have not seen each other since the first day, that night where Donghyuck entangled both of their lives for better or worse. Johnny looks at him like Donghyuck is a new person, completely reborn in the span of a day, developed into someone Johnny isn’t sure he knows. Donghyuck isn’t sure he ever knew Johnny to begin with.

Well, he never told himself he knew Johnny. In his bones maybe he thought he did, but there is so much to know — more to know that Donghyuck could ever imagine but never more than Johnny was ready to give. It’s tricky, because Johnny has always been an open book that Donghyuck is hesitant to read. This Johnny looks the same as all the other days, but with new tension Donghyuck has never seen.

Johnny looks repentant. It’s a strange look on a god.

“How did you get here?” Donghyuck asks. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and the decision to keep his shoulders relaxed is conscious. That doesn’t mean his jaw isn’t tense. That doesn’t mean there isn’t fire in his eyes.

Johnny’s response is mild, but his tone is terse. “The bus.” He looks at Jeno carefully, waiting.

Donghyuck mulishly does not want to be polite — it reminds him too much of the early days, the way he wants to be just brutal enough — but he says, “Jeno, this is Johnny,” anyway.

“Oh!” Jeno steps forwards, hand held out. “Jaemin told me about you.”

Johnny doesn’t move to shake Jeno’s hand but it doesn’t matter — Donghyuck has already grabbed Jeno by the wrist and forced his hand down. The way he pushes Jeno back is not subtle.

The sunny sky rumbles. Johnny’s smile is wry but it wavers into a sneer. This is also not something Donghyuck has seen before. Johnny wipes it away on the back of his hand like he knows it is ugly.

Donghyuck releases Jeno’s hand like it’s live wire and Jeno holds it to his chest in confusion. This is not like Donghyuck. This paranoia is not like him.

What is John doing to him?

Jeno looks worriedly at Donghyuck. Donghyuck can feel his gaze boring through the side of his face, but Donghyuck is staring down his god and nothing else. It’s a challenge, it feels like. He’d been emotionally exhausted in the long hours since last night, all tired bones and loose mind, but seeing Johnny here has ignited his grit again.

Johnny seems to be on the same page without the fire. His hands are in his pockets and his shoulders are slouched. He burns a little lower than usual. Whatever spirit he usually has is dim, the set of his mouth unsatisfied. “I just wanted to see you,” he says after a tense moment.

“Don’t you live together?” Jeno whispers in Donghyuck’s ear.

“He didn’t come home last night,” Donghyuck answers, and he realizes he’s mad about that too. He shouldn’t be. He has no reason to be. He closes his eyes.

When he opens them Johnny’s expression is blank.

“Where have you _been?_ ” Donghyuck demands. Seeing Johnny here so casually is frustrating. Seeing Johnny here is bizarre. It doesn’t feel real, but neither does the fact that Donghyuck is here — the university is not a part of the universe Johnny and Donghyuck inhabit together. Donghyuck thinks yesterday is the first time Johnny has really gone out on his own without Donghyuck being involved. Johnny exists on his own. It’s stranger than it should be. “Mom said you didn’t come home yesterday at all.”

“I got…” Johnny bites his lip, hesitant, “tied up.”

Donghyuck huffs.

“But she said you’d be here all morning.”

“Well…” Donghyuck had this appointment scheduled for a week. He can’t begrudge her for sharing the information.

Jeno hums in Donghyuck’s ear. “I should probably go,” he says, hesitant. He smiles and it’s casual, unstrained. Jeno works in retail and has perfected the customer service smile. 

“We’re going to get lunch,” Donghyuck says pointedly.

Jeno smiles blankly at Johnny and then back at Donghyuck. “Are you...sure?”

Johnny laughs and it’s humourless. “I take it I’m not invited.”

The wind blows. It’s strange that the weather makes Johnny’s mood such an open book but his face and bearing are so closed at this moment. He’s just watching the both of them, but his gaze barely moves away from Donghyuck’s face. It’s like he’s waiting.

Donghyuck’s chin quivers and he hates it. “Where have you been?” he asks again, a little thinner.

Behind him, Jeno opens up his umbrella.

The sky is dark and Johnny’s brow is furrowed. Donghyuck knows what it means. “Don’t get all upset because I’m mad at you.” Donghyuck sticks his palm out, feeling the rain as it begins to fall. Even still, it stops too far from his skin, unnatural. He flings rain onto the pavement. “I’m allowed to be mad at you.” He’s trying to convince himself.

Johnny clenches his teeth. “I know.”

It’s not enough. Donghyuck is hysterically bubbling over. He wants to be angry. He hates that he’s angry. “Why did I have to find out about your magical—fucking… _mind-reading_ super powers from _Sicheng?_ ”

Jeno blanches. “Dude, what?”

Johnny doesn’t know what to say. In his pockets Donghyuck can see his hands clenching, like he’s trying to stop himself from reaching out. “It’s not mind-reading.”

Donghyuck holds himself around the middle. “Then what exactly is it?”

“Hyuck…” Jeno tugs on Donghyuck’s sleeve.

Thunders rolls.

“Oh, shut up,” Donghyuck snaps at Johnny, even as Jeno snaps his hand back. 

“It’s not…” Johnny looks pained. It is the most nervous Donghyuck has ever seen him look, the most exhausted. The coldest by far. There is no warmth in the rain. The wind feels like ice. “I just wanted to see you. I don’t want to argue.” Johnny tilts his head. The rain is sprinkling down but he is untouched. He looks at Donghyuck like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “Humans change so much.” He sounds sad.

Donghyuck doesn’t know what he’s feeling but whatever it is rolls with the growing storm. 

Jeno and his umbrella have moved back, and Donghyuck is under the full force of the rain. Jeno touches a hesitant hand to the back of Donghyuck’s shirt and sees it leaves no marks. “Hyuck…”

“Stop protecting me,” Donghyuck whispers.

Johnny’s face twists. “I _can’t._ ” Like it hurts. But the rain soaks into Donghyuck’s shirt anyway.

It all feels very surreal — Johnny on his college campus, something he always considered so mundane, with the rain touching his skin in a way Donghyuck has never seen. Neither one of them knows what to say but there’s too much between them to be quiet. 

Jeno shuffles behind Donghyuck, the shadow of the umbrella covering both their heads. “We can get lunch some other time,” he says carefully, looking at the speckles of water on the cotton of Donghyuck’s shirt. “You…” His hand clenches around the umbrella, expression dark. His eyes are too wide. “We can get dinner later. You should talk.”

Donghyuck is tired of talking.

“Talk to him,” Jeno says, and he laughs a little. It’s amazing, sometimes, the way Jeno rolls with the world. “You’ll be happier.”

Donghyuck stares at the pavement. “I’m fine.”

“You’re a wreck.” Jeno looks at Johnny uneasily, although his smile is frozen. “Don’t let anyone wreck you if they’re not worth it.”

Donghyuck has been wrecked over something for the past year. He can’t remember the last time he truly felt like he was standing on solid ground. “Okay.” Watching Jeno turn on his heels and walk away feels like losing an anchor.

He’s only known Jeno closely for a short time. He shouldn’t feel so lost without him. Maybe it’s more that Donghyuck has no idea what to do with Johnny than with Jeno’s stability. He looks over at Johnny and finds him standing stock-still, soaked to the bone. His long hair sticks to his face and back, curling around his neck like a continuation of the scar of his shoulder. His mouth is shaped with discontent. The students flitter by on their way to find cover from the sudden downpour, a flurry of motion, and it only makes them both feel more stagnant.

“I can’t do this,” Donghyuck mutters. He reaches for Johnny’s hand, moving to tug him towards a less populated area, and his mind catches up just moments before skin touches skin. He halts.

The rain patters on, although the thunder is barely rumbling now. The entire area is hazy with green and blue, mud splatters and the smokey look of the rain bouncing off wall and sidewalk and street. It is quiet in the way it can only be when the space between two parties is full of things they want to say and do not. Donghyuck grits his teeth.

As Donghyuck and Johnny try to rifle through the words they need to say the quad is emptied out save for the fair few who brought their umbrellas on a day labeled sunny by science. There’s laughter, and howling, the screams ring as girls struggle to protect their homework assignments from the onslaught and a boy slips on wet grass and lands in the mud with a good natured howl. They aren’t paying attention to the two figures standing still in the storm. 

The white noise of students meandering around pitters to silence. In moments the valley is as empty as it has ever been, otherworldly.

“I can’t believe you showed up here,” Donghyuck says.

Johnny breathes for another moment. “You think I don’t want to see you?” A challenge, almost. It’s surprisingly bitter.

“Stop it,” Donghyuck says darkly. “I know you want to see me. I know. You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

Maybe Johnny feels like he does. There’s a sour turn to his mouth. “Do you want to see me?”

“At my college campus unexpected?” Donghyuck argues. “I don’t think so.” He isn’t sure. He isn’t sure about anything, but the words come out certain and almost sarcastic because Donghyuck isn’t sure what other way to say them. His heart recoils and he pushes it deeper down because he’s tired of it. He’s tired of this.

Johnny is tired too, stretched thin to the point of snapping. “Do you ever want to see me?” he asks, and it’s the opposite of Donghyuck’s words — like he is truly angry, truly certain of his feelings, and is paring it down to hurt a little less. “If I left would you be sad?”

It’s not what Donghyuck expects to hear. Johnny is full of surprises today, and they all make Donghyuck’s stomach lurch. “What kind of question is that?” he asks in a whisper.

Johnny doesn’t answer. His eyes are stone. The rain still falls.

It’s not exactly stifling, the way that Johnny looks at Donghyuck. It’s new and uncomfortable and Donghyuck can’t tell where the discomfort stems from. Donghyuck wants to understand and is afraid of understanding. Donghyuck hates feeling like he’s creaking under the weight of his own thoughts. He hates that Johnny said some things and didn’t say others.

He hates that Johnny has seen all the worst parts of him and never thought to mention it. 

Donghyuck wishes Johnny had come with a warning label — _Do Not Open_ unless you’re prepared to be thrown off kilter again and again until gravity feels more like a punishment than a fact of life.

The thought crosses his mind that he wishes he had never walked up that mountain in the first place, but the idea makes his chest ache. He hates this inbetween. The wind whips through his hair and clothes, pushes him a step further, but he’s weighed down by the rain and nothing can move him.

Donghyuck faces god and finds a man shivering in the rain.

“Donghyuck,” Johnny says.

Donghyuck shivers, too. “I lived a long time without you around.”

Johnny chews on his mouth. “Yes.” That is a fact. “That is not what I asked.”

“Where is this even coming from?” Donghyuck questions. He holds himself around the middle, holding warring pieces together. “Are you leaving?” It’s a croak.

“I don’t want to leave,” Johnny admits, but his eyes are almost dead. Donghyuck doesn’t like it. “But if you want me to leave then I’ll go.”

Donghyuck snarls despite his best intentions. “You tell me — do I want you to go?”

Johnny balances, the corners of his mouth turned down so severely it splits his face in half. “You can’t ask me that.”

“Why not—”

“—Because that’s not how it works.” Johnny’s bearing has vacillated wildly between small and looming, but his presence fills the open space so heavily in this moment that Donghyuck takes a step back. The storm halts for a moment, like the rain is hanging in place for a heartbeat, and when Donghyuck blinks he wonders if he imagined it. “Don’t act like you understand it.”

Donghyuck laughs derisively. “How am I supposed to understand it when you _lied_ about it for _months?_ ” It’s unreasonable, the twist of Johnny’s mouth. Donghyuck is the one who should be angry. Johnny does not get to distract him from his fire, not even with the rain. 

Johnny’s eyes are sharp. “I never lied.”

“We’ve been sharing a bed for how long?” Donghyuck demands, two bad thoughts away from stamping his feet like a child. “You’ve been in my house with my family for _how long?_ And you can see my whole heart and never mentioned it a single time.”

Sour, bitter, brutal, sad. “That’s not—”

“—Shut _up_ ,” Donghyuck says, tearing his hands through his hair. This is the part of being angry that Donghyuck hates the most, this hysterical feeling of tipping over the edge into something you can’t claw yourself back from. “You don’t get to tell me that isn’t lying. You didn’t say anything because you knew I would be upset about it! You hid that from me!”

“I have hidden plenty from you,” Johnny agrees, so cold. “I have hid my truest nature, the breadth of my power, the realm of influence — because I knew that you could not handle it.”

Donghyuck sputters, indignant. “Humans are not used to gods. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Johnny’s nose wrinkles, and that handsome face twists to a grimace. The rain runs rivers down his face. His eyes are red and swollen. “If you knew the full force of me you would run and never stop running.”

“But this isn’t just power or...or a lack of understanding?” Donghyuck’s hands flitter and fly, tense and untense as they try to find something to grasp onto that isn’t the wind or his fleeting sanity. “This is my _heart._ My mind. The thoughts and feelings of me and my family and my friends and you—” Donghyuck tries not to scream, boiling over. “You don’t deserve any of that!”

Johnny halts, looking at the sky, and he scowls at the lightning in the clouds like it’s offended him. “I didn’t…” He throws his arm, like he’s banishing the storm but it still rages. “I didn’t mean to hide that from you.”

It’s outrageous. “You literally just said—”

“—There are things that I’ve hidden from you,” Johnny echoes. “Because you have...never been comfortable with me or what I am.” There is truth in that. “But that is not something I intentionally kept from you.”

“Oh?” Donghyuck is too focused on being angry to feel the cold, but there are goosebumps on his arms and the rain chases down the back of his neck. The storm grows, despite the exhaustion in Johnny’s shoulders. “What, you just conveniently forgot?”

Johnny levels him with stony eyes. “Gods have no concept of privacy.” He clenches his jaw. Donghyuck can trace the movement of his Adam’s apple. “When I walk into a room my brothers and sisters know me completely. When I touch humans it is the only way I truly understand them. It is the way we live, and humans were aware of our natures. I did not...consider it from your perspective.”

Donghyuck pauses his ire, heaving a huge sigh. “That doesn’t sound like an apology,” he says. “It sounds like an excuse.”

“It is an excuse.”

“Then I don’t want it.” Donghyuck puts a hand over his own chest and feels his heart rapidly beating. “My thoughts are mine.”

Johnny is dark. “I know.”

“Do you?”

“I didn’t...mean for this to happen this way,” Johnny says. His hair is in his face and he rakes his hand through, pulling it off of his forehead. It’s so long now, midway down his back and as wild as ever. It curls around his neck like it’s trying to strangle him. “I didn’t realize how...upset you would be.”

“About _what?_ ” Donghyuck demands, nearly spitting. “About a sudden confession? About reading my _mind?_ ” He scoffs. “You know me so well and you really didn’t think I’d be upset about that?”

“I know you well.” Johnny tilts his head to the side, the rain cascading down his face and neck. He closes his eyes, lashes fanning out on his cheeks, clumped together, and when he opens them his eyes are still red. “I don’t know you completely.”

That doesn’t make Donghyuck feel any better. He always feels far more when he’s with Johnny than when Johnny is away. He lifts his chin. “Why did you confess to me?” he asks. Here is the thing he has been wondering, the thought that has been rolling around in Donghyuck’s brain like marbles. “If you know me so well, why did you say you loved me knowing the truth?”

“The truth?” Johnny laughs and it sounds like the storm is in his throat. “In that moment I knew you and you loved me.”

Donghyuck stares at him.

Johnny swallows thickly. He looks at the cobblestones, at the earth he is drowning. “Humans change so much.”

It is quiet again.

“I don’t…” Donghyuck swallows a thought he can’t really say out loud.

“Love me?” Johnny finishes allowed. He shoves his hands back down in his pockets. “I don’t know what is true. Your heart shifted so severely…” He frowns, purses his lips, and this is the first time Donghyuck decides, _yes, I truly hurt him._

He is not sure whether that was his right or not.

Johnny is back to seeming small, like Donghyuck could tuck his spirit under his arm and hide him from the rain. “Was your love in that moment real, or was your repulsion?” He clenches a hand over his chest, ripping at the soaked fabric of his sweater until the threads pull. 

Donghyuck has no words. He stands shocked in the valley of his mundane school, speechless, as a storm rages and his god threatens to pull apart at the seams.

“I have never felt this way before,” Johnny says, words rich with desperation. “I have never felt so drawn to something and so pushed away. I have never...I don’t understand.” His chin quivers and he growls, like the movement insults him. “I thought I was doing right by you. I thought I knew what to give to you.”

Donghyuck takes a deep breath. “You said you’d been in love before.” Johnny should know.

“I was.” Johnny also takes a deep breath, turning his face to the sky. “They loved me back.”

Johnny destroyed cities in his heartbreak. Now, Donghyuck thinks he might have broken a god without meaning to, and the end result is gloom and thunder and a desperation to be mended.

“I am sorry that I hurt you, and for not telling you.” Johnny sounds so tired. “Although it is just a part of living for me, at some point I did...deep down I did realize it would bother you. I did not want you to be bothered. I did not want you to run from me.” He laughs and lets his head fall into his hands. “I failed a bit miserably. I love you, and I am blind.”

“Oh, Johnny…” Donghyuck crosses his arms over his chest, finally feeling the chill. His fire is not burning hot enough to keep him warm. “Loving me is not...you don’t—”

Lightning strikes the lamp post and sends glass shattering to the ground.

There are screams from indoors, a muffled din of terror at something so dangerous landing so close. It’s a reminder that they are not truly alone. Donghyuck looks at the windows and sees students staring out of the glass, grimy fingers smearing imprints on window panes as they try to see where lightning hit. 

Donghyuck is not afraid of the lightning. Johnny would never hurt him. He knows that intrinsically.

Johnny’s face contorts in a way that separates the rain from tears, and the power of it is shocking. It is ugly. “If your purpose was to curry my favor you’ve done it.” Broken. “If you won’t love me back I wish you would stop — I’ll beg.”

Donghyuck reels. The adrenaline of lightning hitting so close has set his nerves alive. The air smells like ozone. “I—”

“Can you give me a definite answer?” Johnny asks, and he was right — he’s begging. “Do you love me? Do you hate me? Are you repulsed by my feelings for you? I will take whatever you give me if it is the truth but humans change so much and I am lost.”

“Is this an ultimatum?”

“No.” Johnny digs the heel of his palm into his eyes. “I cannot give you more of myself than I have already given, and I am not sure you can give me any of you at all.”

It doesn’t feel fair of him to ask this. Donghyuck does not know anything. He has no precedent for the feeling. “I don’t hate you,” he says, because he is sure. But it’s soft. He gazes at the ruined light. 

Johnny looks at the glass on the earth, lets his heart shake for a moment or two. “You say that and then change your mind.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You are so fond of me in moments and then push me away because you do not understand me or yourself. You are afraid of me but trust me. You trust me with your body and your family but don’t trust my words.”

_With my body,_ Donghyuck thinks indignantly, face flushing at the implication. He ignores that all Johnny’s points land like a hammer. “You have lied to me before.” Mullish. 

“I have _never_ ,” Johnny says, nearly spitting. Desperate. This man is passionate — Donghyuck has seen it before — but desperation is uncharted territory. “I have not told you things that I knew would frighten you, or...because I am selfish...but I have never lied.” He takes a step closer, still small but pointed and sharp like the broken glass. “I tell you I love you and you tell me I cannot, or that I do not understand my own feelings, and it makes me laugh.” He does laugh, but his face is a grimace. “Because your heart is undecided, but I have had thousands of years to dissect my own.”

“I’m afraid.” Donghyuck admits it like he’s digging stones out of his stomach. “I’m afraid of you.”

The rain does hang, just for a moment, but there is no rumbling of thunder or flashes of lightning. Just a heavy sigh and a dimming of the light. “Then I will go, and you don’t have to be afraid any longer.” Johnny steps back.

His god takes a total of five steps — one to turn his back on Donghyuck, four more to make his way out of this mundane little place — before Donghyuck finds his words again. He lunges forward, his hand grasping at the sleeve of Johnny’s sodden sweater.

“I don’t want you to go.” A jumble of words that Donghyuck can’t get out fast enough, and when he says them he knows they are unfair. His fingers tug at knit and rainwater. His hands are clammy.

Johnny’s head hangs. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Donghyuck picks up another stone from his stomach and throws it onto the ground. “I am afraid of you and of everything that comes with you,” he says to the back of Johnny’s head, “but I am terrified of you leaving.” His hands shake. They do that so much these days.

He thinks about walking home last night and finding an empty bed and is devastated.

Johnny looks at him over his shoulder, nose red but expression haunted. “I don’t...know what else to do.”

Donghyuck doesn’t know either, so he repeats something he knows like a broken record — “I don’t want you to go.” He doesn’t want Johnny in his head but wants to share his bed. He wants to see Johnny playing with his siblings. He wants Johnny to mean what he says.

Johnny does not move. He is still like a statue, features worn down by years and dirt and rain. Eroded and weak but handsome in a way Donghyuck is only recently allowing himself to truly see. 

Donghyuck takes a deep breath. “I want you to stay.”

Johnny shifts, and Donghyuck snatches his head back. Not like before, like it was burning, but like he isn’t sure if the little touch is allowed or kind or reasonable. But Johnny’s eyes, that dark amber, follow the movement and tremble. Is it longing? It is a look Donghyuck has seen before and recognized but refused to acknowledge. 

“I can’t turn myself off,” his god says in a slow, shifting way. “I cannot be more human than I am. I cannot protect myself from you. I am ruined for you.” Like it aches. “If you are afraid of me, then you will always be afraid of me, because I will always love you.”

_It’s a lot harder to move a mountain._ Donghyuck stands by his response the first time, the delirious fear of the mountain moving back. But it is a fear. Donghyuck is not unfeeling, unbothered, removed.

He is afraid.

He does not want to see Johnny walk away.

He cannot say what he is feeling. He does not understand it. There is no precedent, no realm of understanding, no preparation. He does not understand Johnny and is afraid to. He doesn’t understand himself and is afraid he never will.

Donghyuck reaches his hand out and touches Johnny’s palm delicately with a fingertip. 

Johnny breathes like he’s never taken a breath before, like it’s the first and last time. It’s shuddering and...it’s terrified. Their skin only meets for a fraction of a heartbeat, and then that deep breath, and then Johnny tears his hand away and holds it to his chest like Donghyuck has burned him.

This hurts too.

“You do not understand,” Johnny warns. His fingers clench, but the light has returned to his eyes. 

Donghyuck swallows, thick. “No.”

Johnny’s mouth frowns and Donghyuck stares at it. “You are afraid.”

“Yes.” Donghyuck’s hand is still hovering in space.

He thinks he and Johnny are not so different.

Searchingly, Donghyuck reaches forward again. Johnny is facing him and they are far closer than they were, despite Johnny’s attempt to leave. Donghyuck’s lunge forward has placed him close enough to feel whatever warmth Johnny emanates, even through the chill of the rain. They are both soaked to the bone, miserable and unsure. 

Donghyuck hesitantly brushes what might be a tear dripping down Johnny’s cheek and watches his god lean into the touch.

Johnny has given all of himself and taken more than Donghyuck was prepared to give, but as his fingers curl around Donghyuck’s wrist he feels them shaking and it is so human. “Can I?” Johnny asks.

“Alright,” Donghyuck says.

The storm is clearing up, more blue and shining yellow than gray and angry. The students mill out of their cover, shaking wet umbrellas and dripping backpacks or wringing water out of fleece and cotton. Donghyuck does not notice them, and they don’t notice him.

Johnny cups Donghyuck’s face with a gentleness that does not calm Donghyuck’s stomach but does soothe the fire, and the slow and tentative kiss to Donghyuck’s forehead makes his eyes flutter closed. This is scary. This is ferocious. This is soft.

With a sigh, Johnny buries his face in Donghyuck’s shoulder and the rain stops. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 。゜゜(´Ｏ`) ゜゜。


	9. scarcely can speak for my thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hands on Donghyuck’s jaw are warm and calloused and familiar. “You are not comfortable with me yet.”
> 
> “I don’t know if anyone would ever be comfortable with you, Johnny.” It’s Donghyuck’s earnest feeling. Johnny is so much — so much more than Donghyuck could ever really understand but also…
> 
> Johnny lights Donghyuck on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh...hello  
> i hope everyone is doing well!
> 
> thank you ellie for reading over this for me ^^
> 
> WAIT [i](https://twitter.com/parselmunde/status/1251185098550120449?s=20) [have](https://twitter.com/parselmunde/status/1249446894616686592?s=20) [fanart](https://twitter.com/Edadoodle/status/1291085509100412928?s=20) please look at all three they are beautiful and i am weeping

Jeno texts him shortly after they parted ways on campus — _Are you alright?_

Donghyuck does not check his phone for several hours, but by the time he sees the message he has enough peace of mind to decide that he is.

Johnny is still hesitant to touch him and Donghyuck is hesitant to be touched. They are packed in tightly on the bus, and Johnny is careful to touch Donghyuck only when necessary. Donghyuck spends most of the journey staring at Johnny, who watched the rain fall out the window.

“Aren’t you happy?” Donghyuck asks, and although he’s still angry the words come out far sweeter. He is tired of being angry. He is aware of his shortcomings — has always been, truly, but this is far more pointed and perhaps more reasonable a fault than being powerless.

Johnny is standing above him, his hand holding lightly onto the railing above their heads. Donghyuck thinks of Johnny proudly tipping his exact change into the funnel and flushes. They are not touching but Johnny smiles fondly anyway. “Happier.”

“Then why is it still raining?”

“I am…” Johnny laughs, scratching his jawline. If gods were capable of getting dark circles perhaps he would have them. “I am a mess. Is that what you say?”

Donghyuck offers him a small smile. “Yes. Sometimes.” Donghyuck is always a mess, but he has many words he would call himself and most of them are less kind. He swallows. “Is it...my fault?”

Johnny opens his mouth, eyebrows furrowed. He pauses. “Perhaps...in part.” It is less than Donghyuck assumed. “Is this how humans experience emotions?”

“What do you mean? You feel things.” They are in public, surrounded by people who are not a part of their story together, but Donghyuck’s isn’t worried about eavesdroppers. Let them take what they can of a life that isn’t theirs — it will never hurt them or benefit them or please them or terrify them the way it does the players of the game.

The hand hanging at Johnny's side, carefully controlled so as not to brush Donghyuck’s knee, comes up to touch his chest. “We do not...feel things...all at once. Not so many things. And they are easier to sort away.”

“Yes,” Donghyuck says. “I think that is...often how humans feel things.” It is why he is still angry, despite not wanting to be. The rain is pattering lightly against the bus now but the way it looks on the road is beautiful. The lights outside are warped and the sky looks warm rather than frigid. “But gods can feel that way too, clearly.”

“We rarely have reason to.” Johnny laughs into his palm. It is...another human gesture. Donghyuck’s heart clenches for some small reason. “Are you proud of yourself? You’ve taken down a god single handed.”

Donghyuck’s hands clench on his thighs. “You’re still standing,” he reminds Johnny. Donghyuck feels like he’s the one dragged through the mud.

“For now.” Johnny hums, shifting slightly as the bus takes off out of a light and the bodies shift. It is a sea of people that Johnny has learned to navigate for Donghyuck’s sake. “You will have me on my knees soon enough.”

The look in Johnny’s eyes is far away, distracted, and his words are not intentionally heated. Donghyuck flushes like a fever and is very glad they are not touching.

He finds that, as the bus rolls along, there are an equal number of times that he is thankful for the distance as he is wishful of the touching. In the short period between the rain ceasing to fall and the both of them climbing the front steps of Donghyuck’s house Donghyuck has lost track of how many times he wanted to reach for Johnny’s hand.

Donghyuck watches Johnny carefully take off his shoes and stack them next to Doyeon’s. The difference in size is laughable. He looks down the hallways towards the twin’s room. They are still at school. He tries to remember whether his mother is picking them up or not. Lord, he needs to speak with her. “I…”

“I will sleep on the couch,” Johnny says. He straights fully and frowns at the way he is dripping on the hardwood floor

Donghyuck blinks. It is midday. That is not in line at all with Donghyuck’s train of thought, and the stark shift sideways is jarring. “I…?” He clears his throat. “You don’t have to.” Donghyuck has grown to like sharing his bed. In fact, the night was rather lonely. There’s no solace in his solitude.

“You are not as comfortable with me as you were,” Johnny reminds him. His smile turns lopsided. “Your bed is not large.”

“Oh.” Donghyuck covers his mouth with his knuckles and frowns. Johnny is right. “No, it’s not.”

Johnny just nods and moves down the hallways without saying anything else. Donghyuck trails awkwardly behind him and is not sure whether the flooring has shifted horribly or whether his world is gone sideways.

It has been brought to his attention several times that his mind and his heart are not in agreement — mostly by Johnny, who is pushed to frustration. Donghyuck is not far removed from the situation. If anything, his mind is even more entrenched in it, but he can understand the way it looks. At the beginning in the way he slept in Johnny’s arms but did not allow him to look over the twins, and later, when he wanted to kiss him and knew that he shouldn’t. Even as recent as an hour ago, where his mind told him he did not want Johnny but he still reached for Johnny’s hand.

It was...a desperate attempt at being understood.

Donghyuck overthinks. Donghyuck overthinks about everything. When he was younger it was not so bad, because he had other people to think the hard things for him, and all he had to think about were his friends and his dessert and maybe what he wanted to play. Now he has to think about the food on his table and the money in his pocket. And still, when he was older, he had to think about things like relationships and love.

He is not sure if he ever loved Jaemin in the way the story books say, but he thinks so. He really thinks he did.

At the end, maybe not.

“You let me into your head more when we were friends,” he remembers Jaemin saying one night, when they were tangled together on Jaemin’s couch. He remembers knuckles rapping against his forehead. He remembers laughing. He doesn’t remember what he was thinking about.

They were not together for much longer.

It was not Donghyuck’s fault — Jaemin was not the perfect boyfriend the way he’s a perfect friend, but it’s not fair of Donghyuck to expect that of anyone. Of course, they have not been together for some time. Things change. Donghyuck looks at the way the world has shifted around him in the past six months and knows that intrinsically.

Donghyuck can’t remember the last time he was with someone for longer than a moment.

He trusts his heart with other people but not with himself. He knows he is a good brother and he tries to be a good son but he has no reason to believe he would be a good lover beyond the name. He also can’t deny that he has not tried in some time, and that humans change so much and so quickly.

Donghyuck watches Johnny walk to the laundry room and thinks and thinks and thinks.

“I don’t need to touch you to know your brain will hurt if you continue,” Johnny says, picking up a sweater shirt from the pile of laundry to be folded. It is wrinkled and it is Donghyuck’s and Johnny takes off his damp sweater without fanfare. He looks at Donghyuck with an eyebrow raised. His hair sticks to bare skin. “There is nothing happening that needs to be rushed or picked apart so harshly.”

“If you don’t dry your hair first you’ll just get your collar wet,” Donghyuck tells him with a dry mouth.

Wryly, Johnny pulls a towel out of the basket and sets it on his head, a damp shirt in hand and a dry one in the other. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Donghyuck balks.

Johnny continues his efforts without waiting for Donghyuck to reply. His socks come off and the wet clothes go in the washing machine. Donghyuck watches as Johnny runs the towel through his hair and water hits the floor like rain. The scar on his shoulder is hard to see from so far away but somehow Donghyuck has memorized the pattern. “Do you have any wash?”

“Um.” Donghyuck bites his lip. He looks down at the soaking mess of his clothes. “Maybe.” He thinks about pulling his shirt off the way Johnny did and holds himself around the middle. Cotton is cold and clammy against his skin. “I’ll…”

“Go change,” Johnny says. He pulls another towel from the basket and folds it in thirds. “I’ll wait for you.”

Donghyuck scampers into his bedroom and it doesn’t feel like running away. It doesn’t.

He has never seen Johnny angry before today. Or, at least has not seen Johnny angry over something that makes sense to Donghyuck. Johnny was brooding at the beginning, a hulking shadow, but even that was not anger in a way that Donghyuck could recognize. Donghyuck thinks back over their conversation as he drops his pants to the floor, followed by his shirt and his underwear. He peels his socks off and tops the pile with garnish, and he stands naked in his bedroom, chilled skin goosebumps and red rimmed eyes, and he overthinks.

Donghyuck is still angry. When he looks at himself in the mirror he is guilty, too, but deep down in the churning of it all he is angry and hurt and unsure. Those are not the same thing, but when he picks it apart he thinks he’ll find that anger is the smallest measure. He does not pick it apart. In the morning it will sort itself out into neat sections and Donghyuck will toss the things he does not like out with the garbage.

_In that moment I knew you and you loved me._

Donghyuck pulls on his softest sweatshirt and runs a hand through his frizzing hair.

_If you are afraid of me, then you will always be afraid of me, because I will always love you._

“Fuck,” Donghyuck tells his reflection. He pulls on boxers and grabs his clothes off of the floor. It a desperate attempt to stall something that is a molehill and he knows it, he ducks into the twin’s room to grab their hamper as well, dumping his sopping clothes on top. He goes into his mother’s room and finds her scrubs on the floor and Dohee’s dirty onesies hand washed and hanging over the shower curtain railing. Her bed is neatly made and there’s a half-empty glass on the side table surrounded by opened envelopes and a sheet of stamps.

Donghyuck tosses the scrubs in the hamper and moves to grab the cup as well. It sticks to the coaster, and when the coaster falls back down it knocks the papers to the floor. With a sigh, Donghyuck sets the clothes down and picks up the paperwork.

He is not in the habit of checking his mother’s mail. The papers are heavy and professional and the writing looks official, and his mother has a habit of hiding the bills from him for reasons he understands but doesn’t agree with. Truly, he does not look at the first line with the intention of snooping.

The first is a Certificate of Death.

Donghyuck feels his heart stop in his chest, but when he quickly scans through he doesn’t see a name he recognizes. It’s a Xeroxed copy, with a post-it stuck to the corner with his mother’s full name written in a hand Donghyuck has never seen before. His mother does not have much family that Donghyuck knows of, but the few members he does know he cherishes. The others she doesn’t mention.

It is strange that she would go out of her way to have this.

The second paper is an application form, folded around a piece of note paper — _how to apply for letter of admin. > if necessary call xxx-xxxx ask for CHOI JUN. must complete by end of next month for tax due if want this year_

His mother is in the medical field and her writing is almost unintelligible as the paper goes on, but when Donghyuck puts everything together he sees a clear enough picture.

He quietly sets the papers back on his mother’s table, sets the glass in the hamper, and brings the clothes into the laundry room.

Just as he promised, Johnny is there folding laundry. The basket is mostly empty, but when there are children there is always an unnatural number of clothes to be folded, so he is quietly kept busy. He is sitting on the floor, his legs bare. Despite a pair of pants that would fit him sitting neatly atop the finished pile Johnny saw no need to put them on. He is humming under his breath, smoothing out the frills of Doyeon’s favorite skirt.

“Sorry it took me so long.” Donghyuck does not ask what he wants to ask. _Did you…?_ He puts the hamper down on the linoleum. “I went on a scavenger hunt.”

“Is there anything you need for work?”

“No.” It is short, but Donghyuck does not know what he might say if he speaks at length. He swallows, dropping sodden clothes and children’s things into the barrel of the machine. In tandem with the heavy thunk of wet clothes on old metal, the sky rumbles.

When he looks over his shoulder, Johnny is paying him no attention.

Johnny licks his lips and peers up at Donghyuck. It is unintentionally coy — or perhaps it’s intentional, perhaps everything is intentional — but Johnny grimaces as if guilty. “My apologies.” He shifts his legs, moving to stand. “I am very tired and my mood is…” The thunder rumbles again despite the rain ending. He frowns at the window. “Perhaps I should...what do you call it? Nap?”

Donghyuck laughs, covering his mouth with his hands. “Yes. Nap. But you don’t sleep well.”

“I am not awake well, either.”

Donghyuck doesn’t know what to say to that. _Me, neither._ “Will you pass me the detergent?” he asks instead.

Johnny hands him the jug from the top shelf and does not wait for Donghyuck to complete his task before he shuffles out the door. It is loud and lonely in the laundry room by himself, and Donghyuck measures and pours and shuts the machine with a heavy thud before bracing himself on the white steel.

“If you want to sleep…” Donghyuck peeks his head out the laundry and sees Johnny half-collapsed on the couch. “You can nap in my bed…” It shouldn’t feel like an awkward offer, but Johnny’s eyes are heavy. They are heavy the way they were at the beginning, and all the months of progress have not given Donghyuck the knowledge of how to survive under them. “The...you know. The kids will be home soon. They’ll wake you if you sleep on the couch.”

Johnny barely sleeps, with or without the children. Still, he straightens up where he sits. “Thank you.” He stands up without a creak. He is quiet as he heads to the bedroom.

Later, when Donghyuck quietly sneaks inside to grab his things for his shift at the theater, he finds Johnny wide awake at the desk with the window open. The cloudy sky is gone, and so is the rumbling, and now Johnny just looks tired. He does not look at Donghyuck.

He looks only at the bird on the windowsill, and Donghyuck grabs his shirt and slips out of the room as though Johnny was in the deepest sleep.

* * *

Donghyuck calls his mother after picking Dohee up from Jaemin’s house after his shift. “Hey, mom?”

“Yes, honey? Is everything okay?”

“I saw some stuff in your room today.”

She doesn’t reply.

“Is that something I need to worry about?”

“Of course not,” she says, and she sounds at peace. She sounds like she’s smiling. Donghyuck remembers that sound but it’s been a while since he recognized it over the phone. “I think...I think it’s going to be really good.”

Donghyuck swallows. “Okay.” He looks carefully at Dohee sleeping in her carseat and slumps a little in the driver’s seat. “I’m...if you need me to handle anything, I can, okay?”

“You have always handled more than you should have,” his mother answers after a long moment. “Even this, I think.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, but...it feels that way, on bad days.” She laughs. Today is not a bad day. ““I’m very proud of you, no matter what you choose or want or need. Always. Remember that.”

He smiles at the red light and waits for the signal to move forward. “I do.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

* * *

Donghyuck has run himself so ragged and breathing has gotten easier but it hasn’t led to a swift recovery. The days have already passed him by rapidly and he cannot get them back. It’s strange, because he feels awfully stagnant but time is turning too fast for him to keep track of.

Going through the motions feels silly, but Donghyuck has work and cooking and cleaning and school and picking up the kids and...dancing with Johnny. That’s what it is, really — some kind of flighty dance in circles around a subject both of them want to broach.

It is frustrating. Donghyuck can look at the way he has acted and see that it is frustrating. He can look at the way Johnny has acted and see that it was too much, and exactly how Johnny triggered all the fighting responses Donghyuck might have mustered.

Now, it feels like Johnny has made a decision.

Johnny threw the words he was harboring out into the open air and has found some kind of peace in that. Donghyuck has found no peace in Johnny’s words, only questions and circular thoughts, which is much where he was before.

Donghyuck has gone to bed alone for three days.

Every night he hovers as Johnny prepares the couch to sleep. He helps Johnny tuck the sheets into the couch cushions and he carefully unfolds the quilt they’d pulled out of the closet. There are some frayed edges and worn spots, but it works fine. It had been on his grandmother’s bed, some time ago.

Johnny does not seem to mind sleeping in the living room, and Donghyuck can’t bring himself to offer his own bed again, and it seems like only one of them goes to sleep lonely.

Some part of Donghyuck knows that is not true. Johnny has made it very clear that he would like to be as close to Donghyuck as possible, and despite his newfound peace Johnny has given Donghyuck no reason to assume that has changed.

Other things have changed. Johnny does not carry the children as often anymore. He does not carefully bump hips with Donghyuck’s mother while they cook together. He does not touch the side of Donghyuck’s waist as he turns the corner.

“Johnny seems a bit distant,” his mother notes, flipping through their bills. Her reading glasses are perched on her nose but she’s still squinting. Donghyuck can’t remember the last time she got new glasses. “But you two seem to be on better terms?”

“Johnny does not want to touch anyone,” Donghyuck says quietly.

It is a complicated story to tell her, but he does his best.

She listens with a pursed mouth. “We’ll have a talk with the babies,” after a moment, and then she pushes up her glasses and returns to her bills. “I’ll talk with him.”

An odd stroke of fear. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know.” His mother hums under in the back of her throat, deep in thought. “But he...well. He enjoys the children so much. It’s a shame if he can’t hold them.”

Donghyuck has a similar conversation with the twins the next day.

“He can read our brains?” Doyeon asks. The sun is shining overhead and her sun hat is dirtied in her muddy hands. Mr. Jaehyun had to save it from a particularly tall branch at school today after Doyeon climbed to great heights stealing crabapples.

“Only when you hug or hold hands or something like that,” Donghyuck says with a nod. He knows that it is not so simple, but the full span of Johnny’s knowing is touchy subject and he’s not certain the twins will care about the difference.

Dongseok looks at Donghyuck with a blank face. “That’s so cool,” he whispers.

Donghyuck isn’t sure what he expected from the children. “You need to think about it seriously, okay?” he says, standing up and running his hands through his hair. They’re still standing in the school hallway, although Donghyuck had an appointment at the university this afternoon and thus was a little late. There’s no one around but stray teachers with better things to do. “Your minds are your own.”

Doyeon clutches her hat to her chest. “If we think good thoughts then it’s fine.” Her face turns red like she’s holding her breath and then, “he can hold us now, right? If we’re just thinking good thoughts?”

Well… “That’s up to you.” Donghyuck swallows thickly. “But you’ll have to tell him when it’s okay and when it’s not okay.” Johnny has made it clear he won’t initiate anything on his own.

Dongseok grabs Donghyuck by the hand and starts pulling him willfully towards the main doors. “Let’s go home.”

“I’m giving Johnny a big hug _first,_ ” Doyeon wails, zipping down the hallway, her had abandoned on the linoleum tiles.

“Doyeon, if you do not come back here and pick up that hat that your teacher already saved for you once today—”

Doyeon does a sharp U-turn before Donghyuck can even finish and reaches out for Donghyuck’s other hand.

“Is everything okay?” Jaehyun asks, when he sees poor Donghyuck being dragged out the door by his siblings. There’s a small smile on his face. These sorts of displays are all too common, Donghyuck thinks.

“We’re going to hug Johnny,” Doyeon says.

“Thank Mr. Jaehyun for finding your hat,” Donghyuck reminds her.

“Thank you!” She bows hastily, still holding Donghyuck in an iron grip. Dongseok is already running forward to push the doors open as Doyeon does an excellent attempt at pulling Donghyuck’s arm out of socket. “Let’s go.”

Jaehyun is laughing as Donghyuck is herded into the car.

That night, the look on Johnny’s face as the twins clung to his legs plays over and over again on the back of Donghyuck’s eyelids. He isn’t sure when the memory becomes a dream becomes morning, but he wakes up to the sun and feels that it’s right.

He wishes things were that easy. He’s sure they could be.

Donghyuck knows the issue in this moment is his own head. His heart is a different problem altogether.

* * *

“I told you everything would go great,” Donghyuck tells Jeno. Kenny is still above, manning the booth as the guests trickle out of the lobby. Many of them are still hanging around for all of the dancers to change and come out for their flowers and congratulations. Donghyuck only has one to offer. “You were so incredible. Your solo?” He whistles.

Jeno is flushed, either from pride or the good exercise. There’s sweat mixing in with the thick stage makeup, and foundation is smeared just a little on his collar. His eyes are bright. “Was it really good?”

“You were the best one up there.”

“Fake.” Jeno looks pleased anyway. “I have a lot to learn.”

“To me, you were the best for sure.” Donghyuck is sweating through the button up he threw on this morning knowing he would be seen by strangers. The crowd is filling up the lobby and the dancers are their own heaters, but the joy in the room is palpable. It was an excellent opening night, with many more to come.

Jeno looks Donghyuck slyly. “Better than Ten?” He knows the answer.

“Which one is Ten?” Donghyuck asks innocently, as though he doesn’t know the names of everyone in the company after so many weeks of rehearsals.

“I know you aren’t talking about me.”

“Ah!” Jeno’s face lights up, somehow even brighter than before. “You were so good! I was watching your solo from the wings!”

Ten is a short man but built, broad-shouldered and powerful. He’s foregone all attempts at looking nice, but the tank top he’s thrown on doesn’t look too casual compared to the dress shirts and the chiffon dresses. He’s glowing. He smiles. “You’ve seen it a thousand times.”

“But it always looks so good,” Jeno says, genuine.

Donghyuck has to agree. If Donghyuck weren’t loyal to Jeno, Ten was likely the most talented dancer out of the entire company, and his solo was jaw-dropping the first time he’d seen it rehearsed. It was jaw-dropping the first time he’d seen in with costume and lighting, and it was jaw-dropping tonight.

But Donghyuck is loyal and has only spoken to Ten about his stage queues, and instead of gushing he says, “you really were very good. It was a great show.”

Ten’s eyes on Donghyuck are not nearly as kind as they were when they fell on Jeno, but Donghyuck supposes he can’t begrudge anyone that. “Thank you.” He inclines his head, oddly somber compared to the rest of the room, but there’s a winking in his eyes when he smiles again. “You did your job well, as always.”

Donghyuck isn’t sure how to respond to that. “Thank you. I’m glad it ran smoothly.” He’s had far messier opening nights. It’s honestly a miracle that nothing stalled. There’s bad luck in the air the first time there’s an audience.

There are flowers in Ten’s hand — none that Donghyuck recognizes, although he thinks of Doyoung’s garden and imagines the god knows every single one — and he pets them absently. “You seemed to be very stressed lately, but you’re in a good mood tonight.”

“Oh, really?” Donghyuck scratches his head, laughing awkwardly. “I wasn’t aware it was so obvious.”

“Ten, I see my parents.” Jeno leans forward, giving Ten a sweaty hug. He leans over and leaves a lipstick mark on Donghyuck’s cheek. “I’ll see you both tomorrow for call!”

“Get out of here,” Donghyuck says fondly, pushing Jeno towards his parents waving by the front doors. “Make them buy you dinner.” Jeno always eats like a horse after shows, the greasier the better.

“It’s good that you guys have each other,” Ten notes. It surprises Donghyuck slightly that Ten had not taken the opportunity to float away, perhaps wandered off to find whomever had offered him the bouquet. His hand is still moving gently over the petals but his eyes are on Donghyuck. “You’ve been getting closer lately.”

“He’s easy to like,” Donghyuck agrees. “We just had mutual friends in college but it’s nice to see each other often.”

“I hope you’ll continue to meet up once the show is over.”

Donghyuck gives Ten a tight smile. “Me too.” There is some ringing tension between them that Donghyuck is not sure he likes. “I should let you go. I’m sure you have people to talk to. You’re the star of the show, after all.”

Ten grins. “Most of my family doesn’t get along,” he says, after a slow moment. He looks thoughtfully at the flowers. “One was kind enough to give me these. I’ll admit I was surprised when I saw them. We’re not exactly friends.”

“You don’t have to be friends with your family.”

“No.” Ten hums. His eyes flicker over Donghyuck’s shoulder. “Perhaps not.”

There is the strangest feeling, like eyes are on the back of Donghyuck’s neck. Perhaps the tension is not between him and Ten but rather hanging in the room like a chandelier, casting heavy shadow.

When Donghyuck looks around there is no one behind him.

“Be careful going home tonight.” Ten takes a small bundle of flowers, a few white buds hanging down from a stem, and tucks it into the pocket of Donghyuck’s shirt. When Donghyuck was younger his mother grew these in her garden. He always called them bells, but he can’t remember their actual name. “Here is thanks for doing a good job tonight.” Ten’s palm is hot as it smooths down Donghyuck’s chest. It is a strange feeling, like Donghyuck is sunk in water.

“Thanks,” Donghyuck says through the tightness in his rib cage.

It certainly is heavy in here.

Ten steps away and Donghyuck still can’t breathe. “Have a good night.” He wiggles his fingers and fades away into the throng of people.

This is a familiar feeling and yet Donghyuck cannot place it.

Later, when Kenny has handed over the keys and told him to lock up and left Donghyuck to his thoughts (a dangerous thing, these days), Donghyuck thinks he felt it before and then forgot and now he just...truly he cannot remember. It hangs around as he cleans up the booth, as he flips off the lights, as he locks the back door and checks the bathroom for stragglers.

Even the feeling of those eyes on his back lingers.

He is paranoid. He doesn’t feel like he’s going mad but he is paranoid.

Donghyuck is closing up the auditorium when two things happen in horrifying tandem — he sees the red of rustling fabric and hears the shrill cracking of glass.

His hand freezes on the door of the auditorium. The lights are already off and his keys are already in his hands — this is the last thing he needs to do before he heads home. It was so hot in the lobby earlier with the bustling of people but Donghyuck heaves and his breath comes out like fog, like ice is in his throat.

“Ma’am?” he says, turning around towards the flash of red he’d seen out of the corner of his eye.

It’s a woman in a black coat and red pants, her hair tied up out of her face in a chignon. Her lips are red, too, and she smiles at him from a few feet away like she belongs here. She does not. Donghyuck is not even sure she was here a moment ago.

Her hand is on the fractured glass. Her nails are also red, painted and filed into delicate points. She doesn’t say anything.

“Did you break the door?” Donghyuck asks dully.

She slips out of the lobby without a word.

Perhaps it’s stupid that Donghyuck follows her. Perhaps it’s stupid that he doesn’t think of anything else, doesn’t think about the bus ride home or calling Kenny to tell him the door is cracked, doesn’t even wonder how she did it. If she did it.

He just follows Her.

The night is a different creature as Donghyuck pushes his way outside. It is not cold but he shivers in the thin cotton of his shirt. He barely notices. His brain is in a vacuum, and all he can see is red. “Ma’am?” he calls again, but it’s dreamy. He’s very tired, suddenly, and his legs are wobbly and boneless.

There is red to his right so he goes to the right. His stomach hurts. His head is full of cotton but he thinks it might hurt if he could. Where is he? Why is he here?

Behind him the shattered door swings shut and locks him out. He does not look behind him. He doesn’t remember the door shattered, or that it is odd, or that She is odd. He only knows She is taking him somewhere and he would like to go.

It is...an odd thing to know.

Where is he?

He is in the parking lot, and now he is on the street, and now he is stumbling into the alley behind the 7/11 that usually has a flickering light so it reads 7/1 every other second but is now steady. Inside the cashier hands someone their cash back for far too long but Donghyuck doesn’t notice. Not at all.

The night is a different creature but perhaps it is not the night’s fault.

All he sees is red. Red and the black of Her coat and the black of Her hair and the white of Her teeth as She smiles at him. It is a beautiful smile until it curls, rotten, and Her eyes fade into something disconcerting. Were they always so dark? Was it always so dark?

Where is he?

“Hello.” Her voice is velvet. Her skin looks sallow. She is oddly glamorous, standing tall beside a half-filled dumpster in the moonlight. Her face looks inhuman in the slightest way, as if She is painted with different colors or made with different clay. She is focused on neither the dumpster nor the moonlight but solely on Donghyuck.

He tries to speak and finds he cannot.

Her bearing is blinding. Donghyuck should not be here — _where is he?_ — but he steps forward anyway.

“You can come closer,” She says. Her heels are too tall, digging into the dirt and grime on the trashed concrete. The moon is full but they are both cast in shadow. Donghyuck sees Her fine, in some odd turn of events. Perhaps it’s magic. Perhaps it’s stupid. Donghyuck should not be here.“I find you fascinating.”

Donghyuck tries to talk and finds he still cannot. He tries to move and finds the only way is forward. His aching, cotton brain roots himself in place because the alternative frightens him. He has felt this before and does not want to remember. He covers his eyes with a shaking hand.

“You don’t like the look of me?” She is too close. She is too amused. “I dressed up for you.” Delicately, She trails Her hand along the flowers tucked into Donghyuck’s shirt and hums thoughtfully.

That’s right...he was...this is not normal. Donghyuck takes an enormous, gulping breath. When he opens his eyes he sees black and red.

She blinks, the whites of Her eyes melted into the darkness and the void of it draws Donghyuck in. Her hands hover over his face, like she might reach out and touch him at any moment. She grins and it is hungry. “There is something special in you,” She decides. Her teeth are sharp. “I bet it is delicious.”

There is the horrible scream of a human, of a bird, of something in between and more than the sum of its parts, and Donghyuck screams beside. It is a shrill sound, piercing, and he clamps his hands over his ears until he is underwater but they still ring.

In his fall to his knees Donghyuck misses the world snapping back into place.

It is several moments before Donghyuck opens his eyes and finds himself alone and displaced.

“Where am I?” he asks aloud. He is in the dingy alley behind the 7/11. He knows because he can see the blinking green of the broken neon flashing against the wet concrete around the corner. He knows because sometimes he uses their dumpster even though he’s not supposed to.

He knows he was not here a moment ago.

Carefully, Donghyuck pulls his hands down. On his palms he sees red.

“Fuck.” Gently he touches his ear, feels wetness there and sees blood on his fingertips. He...his head aches. He cannot hear out of one side. There is no reason for it, for the blood or the ringing. Donghyuck...he will not cry.

His knees smart and there’s dirt on his dress pants. With a sharp sigh he shifts to his side, clutching his chest with the hand that is not painted red. His heart is beating rapidly. He doesn’t feel well. He needs water. He has forgotten something. He is missing time.

“What happened?” Donghyuck puts a hand on his forehead. His memory is so hazy. He will...forget. He is not made to remember. It is already fading.

There is a dark shadow in the alley and it nudges against Donghyuck’s knuckles. When he looks down he sees the cat.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. She climbs into his lap like black ink and mewls at him. “I don’t know why I’m here either.” Was he getting a snack? Or...was he putting the trash out? Yeah. He finished closing and was taking the trash out. “I think I fell.”

He still can’t hear out of his left ear. The ringing isn’t going away.

Donghyuck pulls himself back to his feet but his balance is off. Blood drips onto the collar of his shirt. He looks horrific. He wants to get home and shower. His heart is racing but everything is gone. Everything is gone but the feeling of being wrong.

“Do you think Ten will forgive me for not being careful?” he asks the cat.

“Meow,” she offers, looking up at him with bright eyes.

“You’re right,” Donghyuck says with a sigh. He runs shaky hands through his hair and squares his shoulders. “I don’t know why Ten’s opinion matters either.”

* * *

Donghyuck has never taken a cat on the bus before but he has seen old women do it before so he refuses to be embarrassed. He is mildly embarrassed about the blood on his shirt and the dirt on his knees but he doesn’t have another option. He has old clothes in the closet of the theater but the thought of returning both exhausts and fills him with dread.

So Donghyuck sits with the cat in his lap and the dirt on his knees and the blood on his shirt and stares out the window until his stop comes despite desperately wishing to fall asleep.

“You are more trouble than you’re worth,” he tells the cat as she prances off of the bus in front of him. Donghyuck is very careful walking down the steps — he leans too heavily on the handrail and struggles to judge his step falls. He waves good night to the bus driver and steps down at the old bus stop. “I don’t take detours for just anyone.”

Her tail flicks lazily, her chin raised, and she saunters down the road ahead.

“No, no, no.” Donghyuck scoops her up in his arms despite her howl of disdain. “We’re going to your house first.”

She sinks into his hold easily enough, despite her grumbling, and Donghyuck takes a left towards Granny Lim’s. It’s time he returned her cat.

Granny Lim lives at the end of the lane which is an excellent place for an eccentric old woman to live. It is past midnight now, and her lawn is cast in a mixture of darkness and shimmering moonlight, but the lights are on. Donghyuck can see the television running through her front window.

He hesitates before he opens her front gate. “Is this alright?”

The cat leaps out of his arms and prances up the front path. Donghyuck, for whatever reason, follows her up onto the porch.

There is a cat nestled among the chipped green paint of the door, but the cat sits on the porch patiently anyway, watching carefully as Donghyuck knocks ever so gently.

It does not take very long for Granny Lim to answer the door. “Hello, son,” she says. She’s wearing a pair of silk pajamas that are slightly too short and her slippers look like the Cookie Monster. Her hair is in rollers. Donghyuck is reminded of his own grandmother and smiles at her sweetly. “You’ve had quite a night.”

“Sorry, Granny,” he says. He smooths down the wrinkles of his shirt, although any attempts at looking presentable died in an alley. “I’m just here to return your cat.”

“She is hard to pin down, isn’t she?” Granny Lim says fondly, stepping aside and allowing the cat to walk into her home. “She always manages to be everywhere but here.”

“Yeah.” Donghyuck swallows down a question. “Maybe you should shut the kitty door.”

“Oh, that’s too much.” She flaps her hand and pats the rollers in her hair. “She’s always where she needs to be, and she always finds her way back, doesn’t she?” Her voice sounds far away but everything sounds far away, muted and distorted.

“I guess.” Donghyuck shoves his hands in his pockets. He’s cold. He’s exhausted. “I’m sorry for the late visit.”

“Don’t worry. You can come by whenever you need to. Old ladies never sleep.” Granny Lim laughs. “And young men have a lot of problems. What’s an old woman to do but fix them?”

Donghyuck laughs along, shaking his head. “I think you would be hard-pressed to fix my problems, Granny.” They are many, and they have deep roots. Ancient roots, even, so far down that even Donghyuck’s abandoned shovel is not enough to pull them from the ground.

She squints at him in the darkness. “Are you having girl problems?”

Donghyuck laughs again, surprised. “No, ma’am.” Granny Lim knows he isn’t interested in that sort of thing.

“Nonsense. A boy like you...you’ll have girl problems soon enough.” She leans heavily on her front door, but she doesn’t seem too tired. “Just remember they can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do! Don’t be too much of a pushover, son, they’ll never get you.”

“Uh...okay.”

“Good night, Donghyuck.” Granny Lim steps aside. “Remember you can come over whenever you need to.”

“Of course.” He’s grateful for the dismissal, as sudden as it is. “Good night.”

It is not a long walk home but it is difficult, his legs walking miles every step. He is so tired. He hurts all over. The birds flying overhead make him jump, unusually paranoid, and he leans so heavily on the porch rails that they creak under his hands. His hands fumble the keys.

The open front door feels like a triumph, and also like a prize.

There are still lights on in the kitchen.

Johnny sits at the kitchen, a small section of it cleared away of bills and children’s clothes and textbooks and notepaper. He’s drinking a cup of coffee by himself in the low light of the lamp, his hair tied back in a braid. He’s wearing a sleep shirt, one that swallows him, and the couch is neatly made for bed but he brings the coffee mug to his lips and stares out the window into the backyard like he’s waiting for something.

“Good morning,” he says quietly, when Donghyuck walks into the kitchen in his most quiet sock feet. Johnny turns towards Donghyuck and he isn’t smiling but his eyes are soft. The line of his mouth is tense. “Are you...alright?”

Donghyuck swallows thickly. “Do I look that bad?”

It is a silly question. If Donghyuck looks half as bad as he feels then the heavy look on Johnny’s face is more than warranted. He’s exhausted, tired in his bones, and his head has not stopped hurting since he left the theater. He smells like dirt and blood and the stale chip smell of the tech booth.

Johnny holds out a second coffee cup, already made.

“It’s late,” Donghyuck says. “If I drink coffee I’ll be up forever.”

“It’s hot chocolate.” Johnny smiles thinly. “I know you like that better anyway.”

The whole room smells like the shitty coffee they buy at the store, comforting and warm and familiar in a way that loosens whatever tension is left inside but leaves Donghyuck boneless and weary. Donghyuck tries to take the mug and finds his hands are still shaking too much, the liquid inside tipping dangerously close to the rim. “Ah…” He bites his lip. “Sorry.”

Johnny sets the cup back down on the table. His eyes are very bright tonight. “Did something happen on the way home?”

Donghyuck frowns. “I...I think so.” He holds his head in his hand. He doesn’t want to sit down because he does not think he will get back up again. He’s desperate for a shower but the idea of trudging away is also too much to fathom. “I don’t really remember.” He looks down at Johnny. This is the closest they’ve been in several days. He whispers, “I think I fell.”

“Your…” Johnny bites on his bottom lip. “Is that blood?”

There is the uncomfortable feeling of blood crusted to skin. Donghyuck touches his ear with a grimace. “Yeah.” The ringing has not stopped and the whole world is off balance, hanging sideways. “I’m not really...sure what happened.”

“May I?” Johnny’s hands reach out towards Donghyuck in silent question.

_He can hold us now, right? If we’re just thinking good thoughts?_

Donghyuck is half-dead standing and there are few good thoughts in his head but there is nothing dangerous either. He nods.

The hands on his jaw are warm and calloused and familiar. Johnny holds Donghyuck’s chin softly and turns his head so that Donghyuck’s ear is in the lamplight. There is enough weight in the touch of Johnny’s fingers that Donghyuck thinks they might both be shaking with it. This is...a new allowance.

It is so dark outside. Donghyuck can see their reflection in the window just behind them, he can see his dead eyes in the glass and the careful attention in the line of Johnny’s body. It is alarming to see himself so disheveled and comforting to be comforted.

Johnny’s fingers stall.

Donghyuck will not apologize, but he will not remark on his good thoughts, either. He looks at the vinyl tile and sighs.

“I’m just...going to…” Johnny swallows. “Can you hear?”

“No,” Donghyuck says.

“Do you mind?” Johnny asks again.

Donghyuck swallows. “No.”

Gently, carefully, hesitantly, Johnny brings Donghyuck closer and closer on his wobbly legs until...ah. Donghyuck can’t help it. The last time they were this close was so sweet and ended in disaster. He should not be thinking about this with Johnny’s fingertips pressed into his skin. Dangerous.

“I’m very sorry,” Johnny says quietly, whether to the memory or Donghyuck’s discomfort or—

He presses a soft kiss to the skin just beneath Donghyuck’s ear.

The noise Donghyuck makes is also soft, mildly alarmed, and his immediate thought is embarrassment. He is...Donghyuck jerks away, covering his ear with his hands as his cheeks flush red. “Oh.”

“I was not…” Johnny clears his throat. His eyes are still bright but his expression is uneasy, and his hand hangs awkwardly between them. “It was...a blessing. Not anything, um...nothing else.”

Donghyuck’s ear is no longer ringing, and the world has regained balance.

“Your eardrum ruptured.” Johnny stands up from his head. “I will get you something to clean up with.”

“That’s alright,” Donghyuck says. “I need a shower anyway.” But he does not protest when Johnny gently prods him into taking the vacated chair. Donghyuck’s heart is racing awkwardly. He clutches his chest and finds the flowers are still hanging in his pocket. He places them down so they don’t get ruined — more ruined. The leaves are crumbled and some of the bells have fallen.

Johnny returns with a warm towel to find Donghyuck with his head on the table and his eyes closed. “I’m very sorry,” he says again.

“I am not angry,” Donghyuck whispers to the wood. “I’m just...embarrassed.” He doesn't know what to do with all of the thoughts in his head. Perhaps it would be different if Johnny were not so clear with his own feelings, perhaps Donghyuck would feel like he was imposing. His skin still tingles where Johnny had kissed him. His cheeks flare again and he hides it in his arms. “Thank you.” Soft.

“You’re welcome.” Johnny carefully takes the other chair, pulling his cooled cup of coffee up to take a drink. “I was worried. I’m happy you’re alright.” He says it tightly.

This is too much. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” Donghyuck mumbles.

The sheets are already on the bed despite Johnny’s obvious effort to wait for Donghyuck to get home. “You are not comfortable with me yet,” is the even reply.

“I don’t know if anyone would ever be comfortable with you, Johnny.” It’s Donghyuck’s earnest feeling. Johnny is so much — so much more than Donghyuck could ever really understand but also…

Johnny lights Donghyuck on fire.

“I have a feeling my mom will be coming into an inheritance soon,” Donghyuck says to no one. He’d had to help his mother print out the Letter of Administration the other day, but she’d kept tight lipped about the specifics. “I imagine this mysterious relative I’ve never heard of is very rich and generous.”

“Ah.” Johnny hums. “How interesting.”

Donghyuck laughs. He curls up on his side, looking at Johnny with his head still on the table. He sees the way Johnny’s fingers tap nervously against the sides of his cup. Donghyuck’s voice is thick in his throat. “I’m sorry that...I hurt you before.”

“I’m not angry anymore,” Johnny says after a long moment. “I was in the wrong. I am not...used to feeling so human.” He laughs.

Donghyuck swallows. “Thanks for doing so much for us.”

Johnny looks at Donghyuck and takes a deep breath. He puts down his cup and frowns thoughtfully. “I would do more,” he admits quietly, perhaps to himself. “I am never doing enough, but I would do everything.”

“I…” Donghyuck wants to tell Johnny that he doesn’t owe Donghyuck anything, that Donghyuck never asked, but he thinks about that first night. He thinks about his prayers to the mountain and whatever those whispers might be, and his desperate cries for help every time thereafter. “I am...grateful. I don’t know that I can repay you.”

“You saved my life,” Johnny reminds him.

Donghyuck whispers into the open space between them. “I also feel like I’ve ruined it.” Here is the god playing nanny to a small family with nothing to offer.

“You are thinking bad things again.”

“I can’t help it.” Donghyuck closes his eyes. “I’m trying.”

There is a hand on his knee. “You are more to me than you think you are,” Johnny says. “You are more to everyone than you think you are. You are just afraid of yourself.”

Donghyuck breathes deeply, and then — before he can convince himself otherwise — gently circles Johnny’s wrist with his fingers.

It is Johnny’s hands that are shaking now, shake the moment Donghyuck touches him, the moment Donghyuck goes to thread their fingers together, because Donghyuck is thinking bad things but he is also thinking good thoughts. He is thinking that he misses Johnny. He is thinking that he’s grateful.

He is thinking of that sweet and bitter ending in Donghyuck’s bed. He is thinking about a lot of things.

Donghyuck has seen more sides of Johnny since their conversation in the rain that he had in the several months before, and the pleading in a god’s eyes is just another marvel Donghyuck doesn’t feel like he deserves. “Please don’t do this if you are not certain.”

“Certain of what?” Donghyuck asks. “Of you? Of me?” Donghyuck is rarely certain of himself. “Of this?” He is certain of this, in this moment. He will not regret it in the morning. He has regretted too many other things recently.

Johnny runs his thumb over the back of Donghyuck’s hand and Donghyuck smiles. He’s so tired. This is good. Donghyuck raises their joined hands and kisses Johnny’s knuckles. He kisses Johnny’s wrist. He kisses the heel of Johnny’s palm.

“You really will ruin me,” Johnny says, like he’s holding his breath.

Donghyuck sits up in his chair and sees the world the right way. “That’s alright, I think.”

It was Donghyuck who started their first and it is Johnny who starts their second.

This is different than before, when Donghyuck was desperate and overcome and unfamiliar. Johnny is too hesitant to be desperate, and he wants too much to allow himself to be overcome, but Donghyuck relishes the moment just as much.

He has not allowed himself to relish the memory of their first kisses because they left an ugly scar, but looking back he knows that whatever he got in that moment was what he wanted, truly, desperately.

This is simpler.

Their hands are clasped between them and Johnny presses a kiss softly against the corner of Donghyuck’s mouth. And another. And another, and Donghyuck turns his head slightly so it lands centered. He sighs.

There are frightening things here, but this is a comfort. It’s allowed to be.

Donghyuck’s eyelids droop, and he grins against Johnny’s mouth. It tastes like shitty coffee. “Is this okay?” he asks. He doesn’t know why.

Johnny hums against his lips. He kisses the mole just beneath Donghyuck’s eye, and the one by his ear, and the one on his cheek. “This is perfect.” His hand holds Donghyuck’s too tightly. “This is more than I was going to ask for ever again.”

“I know.” It was in Donghyuck’s hands. It was in Donghyuck’s hands the whole time. He sighs into the crook of Johnny’s jaw. “I’m sorry.”

A hand comes around on Donghyuck’s shoulder and it’s soothing. It should be terrifying but Donghyuck is too tired to convince himself he cares. Johnny’s palm is warm and his words are warm. “Don’t apologize.” His breath ruffles the top of Donghyuck’s hair.

This is the safest Donghyuck has felt in many days.

He falls asleep curled up in Johnny’s arms, face in his neck. The couch is not meant for two and neither is Donghyuck’s bed but he is distantly aware of being settled in his own room and he is distantly aware of tugging doubtful limbs to follow him.

In the morning, the sun will shine and Johnny will be there. Everything else that follows can come as it may.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚


	10. something so precious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “People have done me plenty of favors over my lifetime.” Johnny’s gaze is heavy. “You’ve saved me beyond what anyone ever has, but I’m not a child. I know the difference between debts and devotion.”
> 
> “You are made for devotion.” Donghyuck reaches up and tucks Johnny’s hair behind his ear. He looks wild this way, as he has not for some time — his eyes are heavy and his hair is loose and his bearing is looming but there was discomfort in this closeness before and now there is not.
> 
> The way that Johnny braces himself against Donghyuck only confirms Donghyuck’s fears, his expectations, his hopes — Johnny is devoted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO PEEP THE RATING CHANGE! i couldn't write any variation of the word penis out on paper but i did my best.
> 
> if you want to skip the rated scene, stop reading at _If you were happy I don’t think I would suffer._ and just skip to the scene break ^^
> 
> thanks to ellie for reading this!  
> i will not apologize for taking so long to update but also i'm sorry

The children wake them up, tiny fists pounding on Donghyuck’s door because they know better than to barge in but feel no shame in causing a ruckus so early in the morning.

“Hyuck!” Doyeon howls at the door. She isn’t pretending to use her morning voice, no false whisper, just excited yelling. “Open! Open!”

Dongseok’s voice pierces in, his footsteps pounding as he runs down the hallway to chastise his sister. “Doyeon—”

“ _Please_ open,” Doyeon adds, once again without shame.

It’s a quicker wake up than an alarm. Donghyuck jolts awake at the first fist on his door, and there’s just enough panic in her voice that his awareness is shifted into focus so quickly it’s almost like vertigo. “Hold on,” he groans, throwing the sheets aside, but when he tries to move he finds that there are strong arms around his waist holding him in place.

There is only a moment — where Donghyuck remembers last night, where Donghyuck stares at the peace on Johnny’s face with a feeling that aches — before Johnny realizes Donghyuck is trying to get out of bed. And another moment where his first instinct is to hold on tighter. His eyes flutter open at the sound of Dongseok running around the hallway again, and he slowly drags his arms back to his sides so that Donghyuck can sit upright.

His hand trails over Donghyuck’s bare arm. “There’s no danger,” he mumbles, the corners of his mouth upturned.

“Not yet,” Donghyuck says. “A lot can go wrong very quickly with those two.”

Johnny smiles. It’s a huge smile, sleepy, half-hidden in Donghyuck’s pillow, and it’s enough to send Donghyuck’s stomach into somersaults.

Quietly, Donghyuck stretches and pads out of bed to the door, creaking it open.

Doyeon and Dongseok are standing there, staring up at him expectantly. Doyeon in particular looks harried, and Dongseok’s hands are running circles around each other the way he does when he’s nervous.

“Where’s mom?” Donghyuck asks.

“Feeding Baby,” Dongseok replies.

“Okay.” The chances of something being actually wrong are slim, because even though Donghyuck is their older brother they still go to their mother whenever there’s an actual disaster. “What’s wrong?”

“Johnny is _missing_ ,” Doyeon wails. Her entire face turns bright red, like she’s holding in her breath to properly sob on a moment's notice.

Donghyuck’s brain, half left on his pillow, jolts to a stall before he huffs out a laugh. “The _dramatics_ ,” he tuts, reaching down to pick her up before her crocodile tears drown them all. With his heel he scoots open the door, and Dongseok pokes his head in so they can all see Johnny sitting upright among Donghyuck’s blankets.

It’s only mildly embarrassing being caught with a boy in his bed, not that the twins might understand any implications, but it’s not nearly as embarrassing as the way Doyeon immediately shimmies out of his grasp.

“I thought you ran away!” she says, too loud, and Johnny is a lot better at pretending to be awake so he just laughs and helps her up onto the mattress so she can clamber into his arms.

“I would never run away from you,” he says, and Doyeon purposefully smushes his cheeks together with her hands.

“Good thoughts,” she says very pointedly, even as her face suggests tears might fall at any second.

“Mhmm,” Johnny agrees, his smile twitching into something endearing through the abstraction of a 6-year-old pulling at his features. His arms pull her closer until she squeals. “Great thoughts. The best thoughts.”

A hand wraps around Donghyuck’s, and when he looks down he sees Dongseok has quietly moved into the room to stand at Donghyuck’s side.

“I told her we should have checked here first,” he says, in a plain way that makes Donghyuck’s cheeks turn red.

Donghyuck reaches down to pull Dongseok into his arms. “Johnny and I aren’t attached at the hip, you know.” Even as he says it, he buries his face in Dongseok’s shoulder to hide his embarrassment. The world through the eyes of a child is the truth laid bare, he supposes. “We were separated for several days now.”

Dongseok looks as unimpressed as a 6-year-old reasonably can. “Yeah.” And nothing else, although the pout of his mouth makes it clear he thinks it was foolishness. “Why?”

“Well…” Donghyuck clears his throat. “Sometimes…”

Johnny looks at Donghyuck over Doyeon’s head, his face still smushed between her tiny hands, but his eyes are clear and focused. He’s waiting for Donghyuck’s answer. _Why?_

“Sometimes people make things hard on themselves,” Donghyuck tells the room.

Dongseok blinks slowly. “That’s stupid.”

Donghyuck laughs, guilty. He can’t deny it. “And you’re _grumpy_.”

Eventually, Donghyuck has to accept certain things. 1) Johnny has loved him in a way that is crystal clear even to children, and 2) Donghyuck has been standing in his own way. Against all odds, this process has slowly borne fruit while Donghyuck determinedly left it to whither. Johnny has painstakingly been tending to their gardens alone, seed to rocky weather to fruition.

“Stop crying,” Johnny says softly. He kisses Doyeon’s cheeks as her crocodile tears run their course. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

This is not enough of a deterrent for a child, but their mother calling them to come for breakfast is plenty to quell the dramatics. “Oh,” Doyeon says with a huff, wiping at her red eyes. “Let’s go!” She maneuvers her way off the bed with Johnny’s amused assistance, and proceeds to tug at the bed sheets until Johnny follows her lead. “Mom made pancakes from _scratch._ ”

“Oh?” Donghyuck steps aside as Doyeon valiantly attempts to pull Johnny behind her. Dongseok wiggles out of Donghyuck’s arms to tirelessly join her efforts. Donghyuck watches his siblings manhandle Johnny bodily out of his room incredulously. “What’s the special occasion?”

Johnny laughs. It’s a nice sound, relaxed, and he says, “An empty living room?”

God, Donghyuck hopes not. “Have we been perceived?” he asks lightly, although his throat is dry.

Johnny’s amusement softens into something sweet, almost private, even as the twins successfully bully him into the hallway. “It will not be so scary this time.”

Donghyuck finds himself standing alone in his bedroom, heart racing in the stillness of morning.

He pads into the kitchen not long after, but already Johnny has pulled on a thicker sweater from the laundry basket and is holding Dohee as Donghyuck’s mother finishes setting the table for their breakfast. Dongseok is reaching up, trying to get the baby’s attention as she babbles happily, pulling at Johnny’s long ponytail. Johnny smiles at her, swaying like a candle, and she tugs until he hums his lullaby.

It is the same melody he sang the first night, tired and broken and muddy and sad, and Donghyuck is forced to see the effects of time.

There is no fear, watching this god hold his sister. There is fondness, a fiery warmth that burns Donghyuck’s center molten gold, and if he runs it through the spaces of his fingers he might find something priceless threading into the mess. Something dangerous. That thing he was afraid of.

Is it permanence?

On the kitchen table, Donghyuck picks up the tiny white flower from the night before, twirling it in his fingers. He tucks it back in his pocket — good luck, maybe. He looks up at the scene before him and wonders if he needs any more luck than he’s already been given.

This is the space where Johnny has most infiltrated their family of five. The easy moments, early mornings and late nights and sluggish afternoons. Dohee is laughing, smiling, nearly walking, and the twins hang on Johnny’s every word. Johnny’s hair has grown longer. Donghyuck’s shoes are more worn.

And beyond that, the good. The lightness in Donghyuck’s bones, in their house. The life in his mother’s eyes, the glow of her skin, the way time seems to have turned back until she can stand tall again. The exhaustion that had settled into the bones of the house is lifting, no longer creaking, and Donghyuck’s brain is finally catching up.

“I’m sorry,” he tells Johnny quietly, watching Johnny bounce Dohee on his hip.

Johnny frowns. “For what?”

Donghyuck opens his mouth and finds the words do not come. “I don’t know,” he admits. _For a lot of things._ For the fear of himself that he can’t push aside. For the fear of things he can’t control. For the fear of being known. He’s trying.

And Johnny can know Donghyuck inside and out with a brush of his fingers, but perhaps that had never been necessary. “Me too.” He tilts his head to the side, hair falling in his eyes, and looks through the crumbling walls of Donghyuck, his new temple. “I’m sorry, too.” He smiles, over and over and over.

It takes Donghyuck’s breath away every time.

* * *

“You’re in _love_ love.”

“Shut up.” Jaemin cackles on the other side of the phone, even as Donghyuck huffs grumpily. “It’s not that serious.”

“He takes your breath away,” Jaemin coos in a thin falsetto. If Donghyuck listens closely he can almost hear Mark wretching in the background. “That sounds pretty serious to me.”

“Well…” Donghyuck has a hard time convincing himself Jaemin is wrong. “I just don’t…” His ears are red as he ducks his head and bulldozes through campus to the Registrar. Some of the other students stare at him as he passes, as if the steam on his cheeks is visible in the crisp autumn air.

“Oh, don’t _what?_ ”

“I just don’t know what we’re doing,” Donghyuck admits. “Are we like, dating? Are we boyfriends?” His stomach flutters. Is Johnny his boyfriend? He tugs at his hair until he remembers he’s in public and smoothes it down with anxious fingers.

Jaemin laughs, so loud and jolting that Donghyuck has pull his ear away from the phone. He almost misses the next thing Jaemin says. “Seriously? You’re asking if you’re _boyfriends?_ ”

“Well?” Donghyuck demands sarcastically. “Are we? Since you seem to know everything all the time.”

“I think Johnny would keep the world from spinning if you asked him to,” Jaemin says flatly. “ _Are we boyfriends._ Please.”

Donghyuck doesn’t see how those two things relate to each other at all and he says as much.

“Johnny is serious about you; what’s it matter if it’s Facebook Official?”

“What is ‘serious’ for a god?” Donghyuck wonders out loud.

“I should ask Mark—”

“Don’t ask Mark,” Donghyuck huffs. “Mark doesn’t know a single thing.”

“That’s true.”

Donghyuck can _really_ hear Mark in the background now. His whining seems to cross time and space — Donghyuck hears it as if Mark is right next to him.

“You sleep on my couch,” Jaemin reminds his freeloader, cutting Mark off mid-sentence and sending Mark sputtering. “You’re a god and your domain is my living room and the Overwatch server.”

“Phenomenal cosmic powers,” Donghyuck sings, “itty-bitty living space.”

“Do you know that reference?” Jaemin asks Mark.

“I’m not that old!”

“Which is probably why you can’t help me.” Donghyuck loves Mark, but even though Mark and Johnny are the same on paper, they seem to come from such different worlds. Mark doesn’t make Donghyuck feel like the world is on its head. Johnny is a challenge to everything Donghyuck has ever known.

Johnny is something beyond what Donghyuck could have ever dreamed.

“I remember when we were younger,” Jaemin says after a while, once teasing Mark gets old. “You were so obsessed with your grandmother and the stories she would tell. Do you still leave rice on the windowsill?”

“Not as much, any more,” Donghyuck admits. The birds come whether Donghyuck leaves an offering or not, but he feels as though his prayers were already answered. He feels a little hollow; he can’t remember the last time he followed the tradition. “I should start doing it more often.”

“You were like, always talking about it. The rice and the flowers and the stories and stuff.” Jaemin laughs, remembering it. Donghyuck was a dramatic story-teller — as much as he teases Doyeon for the spectacles, she certainly comes by it honestly. He remembers standing up on the tables in the cafeteria and talking about legends that might as well have been dust. He remembers Jaemin laughing so hard he shot milk out of his nose. He remembers no one believing any of it, not even himself.

But he must have believed it at least a little.

“And I remember when Renjun got lost, you kept telling everyone to check the woods.”

Donghyuck blinks. “I did?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t remember that.” He hadn’t known Renjun well at the time. Their friendship grew afterwards, mostly out of Donghyuck’s blatant curiosity and Renjun’s desire for attention.

“Really?” Jaemin sounds surprised. “I remember you tried talking the police into checking the mountain. You said it called to you all the time and maybe it called to Renjun, too.”

Donghyuck freezes. “What?”

“I’m shocked you don’t remember.” Jaemin says it casually, as if he doesn’t know that it’s a big deal. Of course he knows that it’s a big deal; he wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise. “You said your grandma told you to listen really closely and maybe Renjun heard something.” He laughs. “I thought you were crazy until Renjun wandered out again and you were right. You didn’t even gloat about it. It was really unlike you.”

Donghyuck clears his throat. “Oh.”

“Yeah. _Oh._ ” Jaemin rolls his eyes. Donghyuck can hear Jaemin roll his eyes, even over the phone. “Don’t you think a decade is long enough to wait for something good to happen?”

Unbidden, Donghyuck remembers his grandmother scattering rice on their windowsill. _“The world forgot him. So the earth took him back until someone remembers.”_

_“But you remember him.”_

_“I'm not his someone, I guess.”_

Is Donghyuck Johnny’s someone? Has Donghyuck always been Johnny’s someone?

“Isn’t that terrifying?” Donghyuck whispers into the receiver. “Isn’t that...bigger than you can imagine?”

“Fate?” Jaemin hums, sighs, thinks, and finds the words Donghyuck has never been able to sort out in himself. “Maybe. But aren’t there worse things in the world than someone loving you?”

Donghyuck wouldn’t know. “I love you,” he says quietly.

Jaemin laughs again. “I’ll always be your better half, huh?” He snorts. “But the world is still turning, Hyuck. Neither of us can ever make it stop.”

“Stop trying to sound all smart,” Donghyuck tells him accusingly. “It’s not like you and it’s freaking me out.”

“Fine.” Jaemin clicks his tongue. “Go ask Johnny to be your boyfriend, you useless homosexual.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. And drop the babies off here some time. I know you have a nanny now but I miss them.”

* * *

As much as Donghyuck wants to make things official with Johnny, he’s starting to think it’s not really necessary. “Hey, um…”

Johnny is out in the yard when Donghyuck makes his way home from the bus stop. The ground is covered in red and brown, and Johnny has created a huge pile of leaves just outside the porch that Dongseok is currently rolling in. “How was your appointment?” Johnny brushes hair off of his forehead and Donghyuck sees his cheeks are flushed with the chill. There are bits of leaf on his jacket and hands, and even more showered down on Dongseok’s head like snow when he pokes his head out of the pile.

“Oh. It was fine.” Donghyuck clears his throat. “I was just dropping some stuff off before they make my schedule official for spring.”

“I’m glad it went well.” Johnny leans on the rake, and he’s smiling at Donghyuck like Donghyuck is the missing sun on this gray afternoon.

Donghyuck has no idea whether Johnny can keep the world from spinning, but he thinks that Johnny would try. He really thinks Johnny would. “It did.” Donghyuck runs a hand through his hair, hands nervous. Dongseok is paying them no mind, entertaining himself, but Donghyuck’s words are a whisper anyway. “Um…”

Johnny waits patiently, standing tall. It’s obvious that Donghyuck has something he can’t say, and it’s equally obvious that Johnny will wait for him to find the words.

“Are we…” Donghyuck sighs heavily, cutting off the half-formed thought. “Am I being stupid?”

“I have no idea,” Johnny admits, mouth crooked. His eyes are sparkling. “Maybe.”

“Don’t tease me.”

Johnny’s smile widens. “Alright.” He continues to wait.

Donghyuck bites his lip. “Are we…” He sees the way Johnny’s eyes track to his mouth and back up again and Donghyuck’s thoughts take a sharp left turn. The wind is clean and bright and Johnny is brighter, present, and Donghyuk asks, “Can I kiss you?”

There’s a flicker of surprise across Johnny’s face. “That isn’t stupid,” he says, even though he just agreed not to tease. “Of course you can. You always can.”

Donghyuck drops his bag on the crumpled grass and takes a few steps into Johnny’s orbit, hands reaching until their fingers tangle together. There is more surprise on Johnny’s face when their skin brushes, but Donghyuck takes not a moment to register it before he tilts his head up and kisses Johnny on this chilled afternoon.

There is no shame or embarrassment in this. There is no worry. There is safety and fondness and something infinitely more precious that frightens Donghyuck less and less as the seconds tick on and on. The world does not stop turning and with that comes the gentleness of peace. Johnny’s hands slip into the back pockets of Donghyuck’s jeans and he kisses the upturned corner of Donghyuck’s mouth.

“I would give you anything,” Johnny whispers against the cool flush of Donghyuck’s cheek. “A title, if that’s what you want — although Facebook is not something I understand.”

Donghyuck laughs, curling his hands in the lapels of Johnny’s coat. “It’s not worth an explanation,” he admits. “And I...I don’t need anything,” Donghyuck decides. “This is..enough.”

The words fall short — Donghyuck wants everything, a title, Johnny’s time, more kisses. They could draw the lines in stone, put ink to paper and sign the definition with a flourish, but in the end it’s already written out clearly.

“This is more than I could ask for.”

Johnny hums, so close the sound tickles Donghyuck’s skin. “This is everything I have to give.”

Donghyuck plucks a leaf out of Johnny’s hair and throws it to the wind like a wish. “A kiss is enough.”

Johnny leans in, wish granted.

* * *

Donghyuck has never had a problem with working hard. Truthfully, he enjoys being busy — he’s never known anything else. Even before it was just their mother taking care of them making ends meet was a game of splitting hairs. Donghyuck got his first real job at age thirteen, waking up early before school to deliver newspapers and avoid neighborhood dogs. Donghyuck worked full time hours his entire duration of college, and picked up a second job a month or two before he pulled himself out of his classes and focused solely on his family.

So the issue has never been whether Donghyuck is capable of working hard. It has always been a matter of exhaustion, the desperate need for a human body to rest. Donghyuck hates the idea of closing his eyes, always running to prepare for the next thing life throws at them. He would consider himself quite adept at keeping moving, even when he feels like he’s been standing still.

To some extent, being favored by a god has removed that human desperation. Johnny has soothed the need to run, sweetened the pot by easing their needs, but has also breathed life into Donghyuck’s body. Donghyuck’s health is blooming, his mind sharper, his body stronger, and the business that Donghyuck prefers no longer breaks his bones.

“You look like you’re _glowing_ ,” Nayeon chirps when Donghyuck walks in for his night shift. “You’re not even this happy when you’re running bar.”

“He’s always like this, these days,” Seungyeon says airly. All of the hostesses have gathered around the podium, seemingly for the sole purpose of gawking at Donghyuck. The servers swing by but the floor is near-empty, and Seungyeon has plenty of time to give him a slow once over. “What happened to you, anyway? You’re so happy all of a sudden.”

Jimin breezes by. “Good dick will do that to you.” He nods sagely as he goes to hang over the podium, squinting at Donghyuck. “Definitely good dick.”

Donghyuck can’t help but laugh. “You _wish._ ”

“With your boy toy’s hot friend? Sure.” With a laugh Jimin straightens, reaching over to clap Donghyuck on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, for real. We were worried about you for a while there.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

Nayeon and Seungyeon send each other a look that implies it certainly was _that bad_ , but Donghyuck is thankful they have the tact to hold their tongues. “I’m happy this guy is treating you right, though,” Nayeon says eventually. “You deserve it.”

“I never said I was actually getting dick,” Donghyuck points out.

“Really?” Jimin blinks, and he lets out a slow whistle. “I thought you said he was hot.”

“I did not!”

“You definitely did, because I definitely would have asked and I definitely would have remembered you saying no.” Jimin snorts.

Donghyuck looks anxiously around. This is a private conversation held in the lobby of his work, as much as Jimin doesn’t seem to care about propriety. “Well—”

“—It’s complicated, yeah yeah.”

Customers push open the front doors for an early dinner, and Jimin straightens up accordingly while Nayeon hurries to organize her menus, painting on a customer service smile. Donghyuck has never been so grateful for company.

“I’m just kidding, you know,” Jimin whispers when he passes to head back to his section. “I’m happy that you’re happy.”

“I’m happy,” Donghyuck says, automatic.

Jimin grins. “I know.”

The shift kicks off slowly, easing into the dinner rush. It’s a slow day, middle of the week, and Donghyuck isn’t expecting much in terms of tips but the idea of bringing home something small no longer turns the pit of his stomach to stone. It’s easier to enjoy the banter, the company of his co-workers, with the stress of bills off his shoulders. It’s easier, too, to handle the bad parts of his job — the belligerent customers, namely, or the people who shoot him sideways glances.

As a food runner, Donghyuck works much less with the customers than a server, but his interactions usually aren’t pleasant. He spends his nights carrying overpriced pasta and delivering drinks from the bar, dodging hands and being beckoned by the snap of impatient fingers.

There are good customers too, but Donghyuck rarely sees that side of them. More than good or bad, most people are middle of the road. They neither like Donghyuck nor dislike him, and if the server has done their job properly Donghyuck has very little to worry about.

“17 wants another drink,” Yerin tells him. “Siwon already made it.”

“ _Again?_ ” Donghyuck whines. “It’s a Tuesday.”

“He’s not even finishing them,” Yerin adds, hesitant. “I don’t know why he keeps ordering more.”

“Does he not like them?”

She shrugs, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. “He says everything is fine…” Yerin bites her lip. “Let me know if he does anything, alright?”

Donghyuck trods over to the bar with a tray in hand, and he dutifully picks up the beer before turning on his heels and heading over to table 17.

Most customers aren’t good or bad. Most of them are average, most of them leave Donghyuck alone, but some of them are very strange.

This gentleman is very strange.

“Here you go, sir.” Donghyuck delicately places the glass on his table. It’s hard to find room among the other glasses that have been collected and hardly touched. The beer sits among a field of cocktails and shots and liqueurs, and the gentleman reaches for the new drink and takes a sip with a smile.

“Thank you, Donghyuck,” he says. His accent is lilting, difficult to place but not unfamiliar. Donghyuck has had plenty of time to try to dissect it, as the man has said the exact same thing to Donghyuck every time another glass is placed in front of him.

Something about it gives Donghyuck an uneasy feeling. “You’re welcome.” He doesn’t sound as off-balance as he feels, but the way the stranger smiles makes Donghyuck fear his discomfort might be obvious.

The man is handsome, surely. He has a nice mouth and kind eyes and his hair is styled up off of his forehead. His clothing is casual but classic, and what’s more it’s expensive. The watch on his wrist is crystal, tick tick tick, and the smile of his face doesn’t crack even as Donghyuck hovers uncertainly at the table.

“Are the other drinks not to your liking, sir?” Donghyuck asks. Seolhyun said she’d had this conversation already, but there’s something hanging in the air that Donghyuck wants to bat down to the ground. It’s nestled here, amongst the rainbow of alcohol, untended.

“The drinks are unimportant.” He takes a long sip of his ale, his eyes never leaving Donghyuck’s face.

Under normal circumstances, Donghyuck might suspect he’s being hit on, but there’s some grave about the swell of the stranger’s words and the churning of Donghyuck’s stomach. “Alright,” Donghyuck says eventually. “Please let me know if you need anything else.”

Donghyuck is already three steps away when he hears it, soft. “Actually...there is something.”

Whatever this strange pressure is, Donghyuck thinks it’s time to stomp it out. He looks over his shoulder and finds dark eyes, narrowed. He lifts his chin, challenging.“Yes?”

“Can you tell me about yourself?” the man asks.

Donghyuck straightens his spine. “What would you like to know?” At work, flirting often leads to better money, but Donghyuck is also well-versed in the art of being politely brisk.

“Whatever you’d like to tell me.” The gentleman glances at his watch and Donghyuck sees it’s set to the wrong time.

“My name is Donghyuck. I’ll be helping you this evening.” He inclines his head. Full stop.

The man laughs. He laughs and laughs hard. “Alright, fair enough.” He leans back in his chair, smiling with a mouth full of perfect teeth, his eyes flickering in the steady light of the hanging lamps. “I know a bit about you, as it is.”

“Great.” Donghyuck refuses to ask. This feeling in the air. He’s recognized it. “I suppose I’ll leave you to it.”

Like hell is Donghyuck going to be spending more time alone with any one of Johnny’s family.

The gentleman has other ideas. “Aren’t you tired of being powerless?” Ah. This nefarious purpose, brought to light amongst the shitty vinyl chairs and the clinking of glasses. He leans forward, elbows on the table, and the way he smiles still seems flirtatious. If anyone passed by, they might think this to be a very normal conversation — the goosebumps on Donghyuck’s skin say otherwise.

It is quiet for far too long. “I don’t think I am powerless,” Donghyuck says plainly.

“Don’t lie to me,” with a deepening smile. “It’s a useless passtime.”

“I won’t lie,” Donghyuck amends. He will not lie but he does not have to. “I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling.”

The man gives Donghyuck a once over. “Not yet.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and rifling through the contents until he pulls out a black card and sets it down on the table. “But later...perhaps.” He slides it in Donghyuck’s direction.

At a brief glance, Donghyuck sees that it’s a business card of some sort. He sees curling white calligraphy beneath those manicured fingernails. He stares, blinking, as he processes the offer — whatever that offer might be. “You can keep it,” he says after a moment. He bows his head again, ever polite, and turns away. “Please let me know if you need another drink.”

“Of course,” is the reply, equally polite.

The gentleman is gone the next time Donghyuck allows himself to look in that direction. He has not taken his heaviness with him — it’s left behind among the glasses.

“I don’t know what you said to that man, but it worked,” Yerin says later.

“I didn’t say anything to him.” Nothing nice, anyway. “He bought all that alcohol; he’d better have tipped well.”

“He tipped more THATS %70,” Yerin says, and Donghyuck’s heart drops in foreboding even as Yerin’s face is as bright as the sun, staring at the receipt. “And he bought _all that alcohol._ I could kiss you right now.”

Donghyuck swallows. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Sure.” She laughs. “He left you his number. Here.” Yerin does, somehow, exactly what Donghyuck expects her to — she pulls that black card out of her apron and holds it out like it’s not the gavel striking down.

The curling white is also exactly what Donghyuck expects it to be. There is nothing on the card but cleanly printed digits. He turns it over and finds no name. “Some calling card,” he mutters under his breath.

“Give it to Jimin if you don’t want it,” Yerin says. “He always likes big spenders.”

“I am not a cartoon,” Jimin says, passing by.

“%70,” she says. “And he was cute.”

A pause. “I’m also not an idiot,” Jimin amends.

“You wouldn’t like this guy,” Donghyuck says uneasily. “He was...really weird.” _Aren’t you tired of being powerless?_ As if that’s the first thing on Donghyuck’s mind. “Didn’t you think he was weird, Yerin?”

“Yeah, he was.” She looks more closely at the card. “He barely drank anything and just kind of watched you walk around.” She grimaces. “It’s weird too, to have a business card without a name on it.”

Jimin whistles. “Mysterious.”

Yerin snorts. “Can’t be that mysterious. He paid with a credit card. His name is on the receipt.”

Donghyuck looks at her sharply. “What’s his name?”

She clicks her tongue, scanning the paper until she finds what she’s looking for. “Moon Taeil.”

“Hmm.” Jimin sighs. “Never heard of him.”

Moon Taeil.

Donghyuck stares at the card in his hands. He only feels a little guilty when he tucks it in his pocket.

* * *

The black card should be set aside and forgotten, as simple and vague as it is, but Donghyuck thinks there might be magic in the way it refuses to leave his mind. The small bit of paper burns through his pocket. His fingers seem to brush the edges at every opportunity. He does not look at it, does not commit the numbers to memory, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t aware of the offer.

Perhaps it’s not magic. Perhaps it’s simple curiosity.

Helplessness has never been Donghyuck’s greatest worry — it’s always been money. Money has always been the answer to all of Donghyuck’s problems, to the bills and their health and his time, but now Donghyuck finds money is not a worry and he still has problems. Most of them lie in his own head.

It’s a long drive home. The car smells like stale Goldfish and crayon wax, multicolor, and Donghyuck rolls the windows down to feel the night air rush through the streets. He’s used to being awake at this time of night, but there’s definitely a certain mood to the road home in the space between goodnight and goodmorning. It’s a good time for thinking.

Donghyuck does not need any excuses to think more. He turns up the radio and sings along to something simple.

He knows exactly what will be waiting for him. Johnny will still be awake, likely doing some sort of chore, and there will be no pretenses about why he is still awake. He will smile at Donghyuck when he walks through the door, a little tentative because Donghyuck thinks he is still afraid of Donghyuck’s mind shifting. He’ll hold out his hand.

What Donghyuck does differs night to night and changes their narrative, but the story always ends with Johnny slipping into his bed and the sweet embrace of sleep — once all the thoughts run their course and leave Donghyuck to his peace.

This night is no different. Donghyuck pulls into their driveway and shuts the van off, takes a moment to catch his breath and find his legs, and hauls his work bag out of the passenger’s seat. The door is open, the lights on in the kitchen and the porch, and Donghyuck can see Johnny moving like a shadow before he even steps inside.

Quietly he shuts the door behind him and toes off his shoes, throwing the casually next to Doyeon’s boots and his mother’s slippers. There’s tinkling in the kitchen, the clinking of glasses, and it stops for a moment.

“Welcome home,” Johnny says gently from around the corner as the clinking continues.

When Donghyuck pads into the kitchen in his sock feet, he finds exactly what he expected to find. There’s Johnny, still awake, and he’s up to his elbows in soapy water. Johnny is only wearing a large sweater and no pants, the way he likes to do when no one is around, and his hair is loose over his shoulders that hints he did not even try to fall asleep.

“Waiting for me?” Donghyuck asks with a smile, setting his bag on the kitchen table.

“I would never,” Johnny says, grinning into the lie.

“Really?” Donghyuck comes over to lean on the island. “Seems awfully late to be doing the dishes.”

“The children eat a lot.” Johnny hums, wiping his hands off on a towel and leaning his hip on the counter. He frowns dramatically. “I’ve been doing the dishes for at least six hours now.”

Donghyuck laughs, muffling the sound with his hand. He tuts. “Poor thing.”

Johnny smiles at him with that tentative smile, hesitating, and his hands are still wringing the towel.

The night is warm and comfortable, but something crackles. Donghyuck puts more weight on his elbows, leaning into Johnny’s space, sagging as he relaxes into the comfort of his home. “I met someone strange at work today.” He doesn’t know what prompts him to say it, but he feels that he should.

Johnny’s face is kept carefully blank. “Oh?” He gives Donghyuck a firm look, as though he’s checking for irregularities, and Donghyuck cocks his head at him. “Did they say who it was?”

“No,” Donghyuck replies. “But he left me his card.”

There is a slow moment and Donghyuck can track the way Johnny swallows the information, watches his Adam’s apple bob. And there is that reaching hand. “Do you mind?”

Donghyuck takes a moment to think about his own mind and decides there’s nothing to hide. He steps around the island, the tips of his fingers brushing across Johnny’s palm until their hands slot together. He feels Johnny’s intake of breath more than he hears it, and he pulls Johnny in ever so much closer to put his free hand at the small of Johnny’s waist, looking up at him as if this were some kind of dance. He inspects the frown on Johnny’s face, the wrinkle between his brow. “So?” he asks lightly. “What’s the verdict? Was he flirting with me after all?”

Johnny slumps, relaxing into Donghyuck’s hold. He tucks Donghyuck’s head beneath his chin. “No,” he says succinctly, squeezing Donghyuck’s hand. “He knows better.”

“Good. He was weird.”

Johnny does not mention that Donghyuck kept the card anyway, or the strange guilt Donghyuck still feels when he thinks about it in his pocket, but he holds Donghyuck tighter, wrapping his arms around Donghyuck’s shoulder and starting gently to sway. “He is a good friend,” Johnny says after a moment. “He...makes good on his offers.”

“I’m not accepting,” Donghyuck whispers into Johnny’s chest.

“You don’t know what he’s offering.”

“I know better than to get tied up with people like that.” He pauses, swallowing thickly. “One is enough.”

Johnny halts, a beat missed. “More than enough.”

Donghyuck hums. “More than enough.”

Their quiet dance spins them side to side on the linoleum tile, hips occasionally bumping into cabinets and the soapy water cooling into uselessness. Johnny’s feet are bare and Donghyuck has goosebumps up his arms. He’s exhausted, suddenly, but also doesn’t want to move. The sway is lulling him into something awfully like contentment. Johnny’s fingers press rhythms into the back of Donghyuck’s neck. Donghyuck wonders at all the things Johnny might see. Can he see the way Donghyuck wants to melt into the moment? Can he see the hesitation or the fear that Donghyuck is diluting with peace? Can he see enough of Donghyuck to wonder if his love is well founded?

Johnny huffs. Donghyuck feels it against his hair. “You’re thinking too hard.”

“Have you really never fallen in love before?”

“Once,” Johnny admits. “Although...I’m not sure whether that was love.”

Donghyuck pauses, deep in thought. “Why not?”

There is a long and quiet moment. “This feels different.”

Donghyuck’s mouth is dry and he laughs, small. “How do you know this is true and whatever it was before wasn’t?”

Johnny pulls away and the line of his mouth is thin. “You’re thinking too hard,” he reiterates.

“I’m not doing it to be belligerent,” Donghyuck disputes. “I just…” He hums, trying to put his thoughts in order. One of his hands comes up and traces down the knit of Johnny’s sweater, his finger finding the rhythm in the pattern. “I guess I just would like to understand.”

“Alright.” Johnny grabs Donghyuck’s hand, stopping his drawing. “Before, it was angry.”

Donghyuck frowns. “Angry?”

“Have you ever met someone who brings out the worst in you?”

Donghyuck doesn’t say anything.

“Is that feeling love?” Johnny’s eyes are far away. He looks as if he’s counting the grains on the windowsill. “At the time I wished it was. I thought it was. They thought it was, as well.” His expression is grim. “It was sometimes...whatever it was, it was brutal. I couldn’t accept that, at the time.”

“I see.” Donghyuck lets those thoughts roll through his brain. “I...feel like sometimes I bring out the worst in you.” And maybe also in himself, now that he can’t blame it on anything else.

“You are human, and I have never been so close with a human,” Johnny admits. “But this is not my worst. I have been my worst, burned my hottest. I don’t have it in me to do that again.”

Donghyuck’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Aren’t storms meant to rage?”

“I’m not the storm,” Johnny returns. “I’m her power and purpose.” And he laughs. “What did you say to me...that the storm destroyed plenty while I was away.”

“And you said you could never stop her, because she’s wild.”

Slowly, Johnny brings Donghyuck’s knuckles up to his mouth and kisses them, covers Donghyuck’s brittle bones with the palm of his hand. “This is also wild,” Johnny admits, and his eyes soak in the features of Donghyuck’s face until Donghyuck shivers under the pressure. “Would you have me stop it?”

“No,” Donghyuck says.

A part of him wonders when Johnny found himself damned. When Johnny realized that he had been unearthed only to be pulled under something else. Was it something Donghyuck did? Was it gratefulness?

Johnny’s hold is too tight. “No.”

Donghyuck winces. “Sorry.”

“People have done me plenty of favors over my lifetime.” Johnny’s gaze is heavy. “You’ve saved me beyond what anyone ever has, but I’m not a child. I know the difference between debts and devotion.”

“You are made for devotion.” Donghyuck reaches up and tucks Johnny’s hair behind his ear. He looks wild this way, as he has not for some time — his eyes are heavy and his hair is loose and his bearing is looming but there was discomfort in this closeness before and now there is not.

The way that Johnny braces himself against Donghyuck only confirms Donghyuck’s fears, his expectations, his hopes — Johnny is devoted.

“I suppose...you know more of me than anyone else could,” Donghyuck admits. It’s mostly to himself, these thoughts spinning out loud. If he hears himself say them, will it manifest this calmness he’s seeking? “Although that seems detrimental to me...perhaps the fall was inevitable.”

Johnny thinks for a moment, and he lifts Donghyuck’s face up toward the light by his chin before Donghyuck even realized it fell. “You…” He pauses. “I will not tell you about yourself. You know more than you think you do.”

Donghyuck laughs. “Thank you. You telling me about myself might freak me out again.”

“I will say that you’re right,” Johnny continues. “It was inevitable.”

Donghyuck thinks about that night on the mountain, in the rain, his hands blistered and broken on a shovel long lost to the moment. He remembers Johnny reaching for his face, that moment of fear where Donghyuck thought he might be crushed under the palm of a creature he doesn’t understand, and that’s crucial _Are you real?_

As if Donghyuck were a dream. Maybe he was.

“You cried for me,” Johnny remembers. “And then you laughed for me, and then I was gone.”

And oh, in this moment, if Donghyuck were struck by lightning he thinks it might feel the same.

He remembers the night before things crumbled together under the weight of Donghyuck’s hesitations, that moment where Donghyuck felt like a god being worshipped, held in Johnny’s hands. He remembers the feeling of boiling over, of sweetness so strong before it cloyed, of the world ending for a heartbeat.

“I love you,” Donghyuck whispers in the dim light of their home. “I’m hopelessly in love with you.” Breathless. Disbelieving.

Johnny’s mouth hangs.

Donghyuck leans away, turning his face to the side in his embarrassment. “Don’t look so surprised.” His hand is still in Johnny’s grasp and he makes no move to change it. “You already knew.”

“I am surprised,” Johnny tells him, reverent. “I am.”

“ _How?_ ” Donghyuck does not understand how this works, but Johnny pulls Donghyuck’s hand until it’s flat against Johnny’s rapidly beating heart and Donghyuck cannot deny the rhythm.

Johnny’s face is open and wide, vulnerable. “I never thought you would say it.” So quietly that Donghyuck could not have heard it if they were not so close. “It is different when...some people can never say things. Some people never know to say things.”

Donghyuck lifts his chin, cheeks still flaming. “Well, I said it.” A challenge. “What are you going to do about it?”

It is almost as though Johnny’s legs give out, as though he is so overwhelmed that he has no choice but to fall on his knees on the kitchen floor. His face is lifted up to Donghyuck, beautiful even under the dull glow of the lights, and his hands grip Donghyuck’s hips as though he is going to ask all over again — _Are you real?_

“I’m real,” Donghyuck promises, a shaky hand moving to run through Johnny’s tangled hair. “I love you, and I’m real.”

Johnny’s face presses into Donghyuck’s thigh, so warm and desperate that Donghyuck shivers. “I did not think...ah, but I hoped…”

“Have my kisses not made things clear?” Donghyuck demands.

“I would take a single kiss and nothing further if that’s what you gave me,” Johnny admits, muffled. “I would never ask for anything else.”

Donghyuck licks his lips. “Would you suffer?”

“Would you be happy?”

Donghyuck doesn’t reply.

Johnny breathes deeply. “If you were happy I don’t think I would suffer.”

In this moment, Donghyuck is happy and suffering all at once. He drops down to his knees, bones clanking against the floor in a fervid lack of grace, and Johnny barely has time to adjust his hold before Donghyuck is crashing into him. Donghyuck surges forward, too far and too close all at once, and their teeth clink together in his haste but it softens so quickly into fondness. Johnny is braced backwards on his elbows and Donghyuck is in his space, clutching at his shirt, at his hair, at his skin.

“Donghyuck,” Johnny says through the clash of their mouths, his words vibrating Donghyuck out of his skin. “Donghyuck, Donghyuck.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Johnny. John. My god.”

Johnny shudders, leaning backwards until Donghyuck is truly on top of him, and the press of their bodies lights Donghyuck on fire. This is pure longing, yearning, snapped like a rubberband. This is what their first kiss should have been — loving, without pretense or fear.

“I love you,” Donghyuck says again, and Johnny’s head hands back so that Donghyuck can mouth at his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Johnny’s voice is shaking, his body shaking, his core shaking, and Donghyuck tugs at his hair until Johnny’s half-lidded eyes are looking only at him.

Donghyuck holds Johnny’s hair in his hand, looks over the blooming marks on Johnny’s neck, rakes his gaze down Johnny’s collarbone, and finds there’s a monster in his stomach that is hungry.“ _Mine._ ”

Arms wrap around Donghyuck’s waist and Johnny leans in, attacking Donghyuck’s mouth with what might be a whimper. Johnny bites at Donghyuck’s lower lip and shifting his body so that Donghyuck is firmly in his lap. Donghyuck’s thighs flex on either side of Johnny’s hips, and hands come down his waist to his lower back to his ass to his thighs and dig into hard enough to bruise. Donghyuck throws his head back.

“We need...ah.” Johnny is kissing the mole at Donghyuck’s neck. “We need to be quiet.” It’s late.

“I will swallow you down,” Johnny promises, his whisper rugged.

There’s too much in between them, too much fabric, too many feelings. Donghyuck tugs at Johnny’s sweater until it’s pulled up and over his god’s head. Johnny is loath to let go, but releasing Donghyuck is a good excuse to return to the favor, his hands tugging at the hem of Donghyuck’s t-shirt until they’re both bare chested and wrapped around each other.

Donghyuck finds the ridges of Johnny’s scar and Johnny rubs his thumb into the moles on Donghyuck’s chest and shoulders. He runs his hands over Donghyuck’s ribs and Donghyuck mouths at the hollow of Johnny’s throat.

“This is good,” Johnny hums, biting tan skin.

Donghyuck agrees but — “It’s not enough.” The monster in Donghyuck’s stomach is hungry for something golden and only Johnny can sate him. Things are building, and Donghyuck can’t bring himself to believe it’s building fast. This moment has come at a trudge, a shuffling durge that should have happened a million times before but this will do.

He grinds down on Johnny’s hips and revels in the sounds his finds.

“You’ll kill a god,” Johnny jests, his words becoming a groan.

Donghyuck laughs. He’s leaning over Johnny, on his knees with this god beneath him, and he traces a palm around Johnny’s jaw sweetly. “Will I reach enlightenment then?”

Johnny’s eyes are so dark, the curl of his mouth wicked. “I’ll do my best.”

There is a blur, their feelings reaction and mixing into a haze that covers everything until Donghyuck is lost in it. Somehow they stand, and somehow Johnny is pressing him back into the couch and Donghyuck is laughing, his hands tangling in the wildness of Johnny’s hair, and the teeth at his neck make his whine. He’s shivering, delighted, and boiling hot at the core.

“Can I?” Johnny asks, his fingers already undoing the buttons of Donghyuck’s pants. One hand touches the skin of Donghyuck’s stomach, feather light and fervent.

“If you’re quiet,” Donghyuck teases. “Don’t sing too loud.”

“I will worship silently,” Johnny says with gravity, and then Donghyuck is bare and they’re free of the barriers between them.

This is a revelry, Donghyuck thinks, because there is a zip every time Johnny touches him, and a heady satisfaction whenever Donghyuck rakes his nails over Johnny’s unblemished skin. Johnny’s hair tickles Donghyuck’s face until he tugs it aside with brutal fingers and he will never forget the sound he is given.

It’s frustrating, that this could have happened and has not.

“Is that silent?” Donghyuck asks when he rolls his hips against Johnny’s and thunder rolls outside.

Johnny licks into Donghyuck’s mouth. “The storm wants to rage,” is the petulant answer. “Who am I to deny her?”

“Careful.” Donghyuck’s hands dig into Johnny’s arms as Johnny’s hands slip lower and lower, curling down Donghyuck’s leg and ass and lower still. Donghyuck can see the excitement in his eyes, the hunger of Johnny’s own monster, and he revels in that too. “Don’t get too excited.”

“It’s too late.” But Johnny presses his face into Donghyuck’s shoulder to muffle his own sounds, to hear Donghyuck’s gasps in full. “It is several months too late.”

There is a short recess while Johnny begrudgingly steps away for supplies, and the popping of bottle lid has never sent Donghyuck into a frenzy the way this has. “Don’t gods have some sort of lube powers?” he asks, as Johnny stalks back towards the couch drizzling slick over his fingers.

“That’s not my domain,” Johnny says simply, grin crooked.

Donghyuck remembers the first time he saw Johnny bare, but it was not like this. That moment was a whirl of many things, mostly panic and confusion, but there is desperation in common. Now he has the opportunity to appreciate what he couldn’t the first time, and what he would not allow himself to every time after.

Johnny is beautiful. Johnny is chiseled stone and burning fire. He glows in the lowlight, biting his lip as he runs a tentative hand over Donghyuck’s thigh. “Can I?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Donghyuck decides, and the trust of it hits Johnny so hard he surges forward for more kisses.

The hand creeping between Donghyuck’s legs is warm and slow, slick, gentle. The grip on his leg is firm, bruising, but the hand that opens Donghyuck up until he shakes is determined and meticulous. It is Donghyuck who struggles here, despite being well used to stifling sounds. He is held here, under his god, and Johnny is desperate to unearth every good feeling.

“Please,” Donghyuck whispers in Johnny’s ear. He’s shuddering so hard he thinks he might break apart. “I don’t think I can take it anymore. Or are you trying to kill me too?” He’s clutching at Johnny in desperate need of an anchor.

Johnny bites at Donghyuck’s neck, laves beneath his ear. “I would never.”

“I can’t stand it.” Donghyuck leans his head back against the arm rest, and Johnny takes the opportunity to kiss the solar system that covers Donghyuck skin. The marks on his face and neck, on his chest and lower, down his sides and the tops of his legs until he takes Donghyuck into his mouth. Donghyuck reels, curling up over Johnny’s head, his thighs flexing.“What did I _just_ say?” he hisses.

“That you love me,” Johnny offers, cheeky. He kisses the fold of Donghyuck’s hip.

He’s right. Donghyuck touches Johnny’s cheek so that Johnny knows he’s right.

There is a new space between them, easy and sparking, with the hesitation dissolved and the desire in the open air. Johnny maneuvers Donghyuck’s thighs over his shoulders and kisses bruises into Donghyuck’s legs, taking him into his mouth again until Donghyuck bites his fist, close to begging.

Johnny is obedient enough when Donghyuck smooths his hair back and pulls him up for more kisses. “Fuck me,” Donghyuck demands, scratching the delicate skin of Johnny’s jugular. His face is flushed and his eyes are dark and Johnny drinks him in. “I’m not going to ask again.”

“Who am I to deny a god?” Johnny questions, and Donghyuck writhes when Johnny presses in closer, lining up.

The first push in is enough that Donghyuck sees stars. He bites his lip so as not to wail, and Johnny offers his own skin as a gag for Donghyuck to clamp on to. “Shh,” Johnny soothes, halting. “Relax, baby.”

Donghyuck does, slowly, until Johnny is flush against him and everything is overwhelming. “I’m okay,” he says lowly, as Johnny presses fluttering kisses across his nose and cheeks and forehead. “I’m okay. Please.” His legs wrap around Johnny’s back.

It’s Johnny who whimpers. “Anything.” His voice is deep, and he does as he’s told.

Outside, there is no storm but the rumbling of thunder, and Donghyuck bites down on warm skin until his vision is mottled with white. There is a rolling, a closeness, and Johnny is everywhere. Johnny is desperate to be everywhere, anywhere, and he pushes Donghyuck’s legs up until they are both at each other’s mercy.

“Can I?” Johnny asks, his hips stuttering.

And oh, Donghyuck laughs. His mind is here, anchored down by hands and devotion, but he’s ready to fly. “If you take me with you.”

Johnny swallows Donghyuck’s groan down, rolls them both through the waves and kisses Donghyuck so hard he thinks it might bruise. Donghyuck cannot breathe, cannot catch his breath. He’s falling off a cliff so high he’s afraid of where he might land, and Johnny is warm around, above, inside him.

His limbs move on their own, pulling close and pushing away and Johnny is surging forward with terrifying rhythm. Yearning, in the way he holds. Donghyuck’s body arches and Johnny takes the opportunity to hold him closer still, tongue on his throat, tasting salt.

When Donghyuck returns from his falling and comes back into his body, he’s cradled in Johnny’s lap with his head tucked into Johnny’s chest, a mess between them. His breath is gone, and Johnny is humming a different melody that wraps around the room. He is kissing the sides of Donghyuck’s face, his jaw and his forehead, and if Donghyuck listens closely he hears _thank you, thank you_.

Donghyuck sleepily runs his hands through the sweaty mass of Johnny’s hair, working through knots. “Mine,” he mumbles, content.

It is the last thing Donghyuck remembers before he falls asleep. A kiss, and — “Yours.”

* * *

“You _fucked?_ ”

Donghyuck winces, pulling the phone away from his ear. “Good morning,” he moans. The sun is just barely up. He’d thrown open his curtains and watched the sunrise not too long ago. After such a long and exhausting night he’s surprised he’s up so early, but despite the lead in his bones he doesn’t think he could fall back asleep.

He looks over at Johnny, tangled in his bedsheets.

“Good morning,” Jaemin says blankly. “You guys fucked and you didn’t tell me?”

It’s only been a handful of hours, but the adrenaline melted away in Donghyuck’s sleep only to turn into something liquid and gushing. Donghyuck smiles, tapping his fingers on the desktop. “How do you even know?” His skin is clean and he smells like sleep. If it weren’t for the ache in his bones Donghyuck might think he imagined the entire thing.

Jaemin pauses. “Mark,” he says, like it’s the simplest answer in the world.

Maybe it is. “Gods really are the worst,” Donghyuck mutters. He doesn’t want to know how Mark knew. Mark probably hates that he knows.

“He just mentioned Johnny was _happier_ today.”

“Johnny is still asleep,” Donghyuck says. “And how did you get fucking from being happier?”

“Well, you’ve already kissed! What else could it be?” Jaemin demands. “So? Did you?”

The sun certainly is shining and there’s not a cloud in sight, but the day is still young. Donghyuck might fuck up again and drown the valley. He laughs to himself, just a little. “We did.” The flower Ten pressed into his pocket is tucked in between the pages of the book. Donghyuck thoughtfully runs his fingers over the gap in the pages. There’s something missing between them, but Donghyuck is content enough dwelling on a good thing.

“Yeah, I _know._ ” Jaemin clicks his tongue. “Aren’t you listening to me? What was it like?” There’s rustling on the other end of the line and if Donghyuck listens closely he can hear Mark puttering around.

At his own house, Donghyuck’s mother hums in the kitchen and the twins play with Dohee in her bouncing chair. Johnny sleeps through it all, brow unfurrowed. Donghyuck never realized how tense Johnny has been until he’s seen it blown away in a dream. “It was…” Magic, maybe. “It was good.”

“ _Good?_ ” Jaemin must have already had his coffee this morning, which is not something Donghyuck can say for himself. Jaemin’s energy has already hit a level Donghyuck cannot match. “That’s all? I’m your best friend and I don’t get to hear about—”

Mark’s protests in the background are echoed by the ones Donghyuck tries desperately to stifle. “You’re an embarrassment,” Donghyuck hisses, only mildly irritated by Jaemin’s whine of disappointment.

“Lame.” Jaemin huffs. “When will there be tongue?”

“There has already been tongue,” Donghyuck reminds him. “It did not end well the first time, but there has been plenty of tongue.”

“Okay, fine. The real question is: is he proportional?”

“Goodbye, Jaemin.”

“ _Text me!_ ”

There’s a knock on Donghyuck’s door just after he cancels the call and sets his phone gently on the bedside table. It’s a soft knock, tentative, and Dongseok peeks his head inside the room through the small crack imaginable. “Mom wants help with the baby,” he stage-whispers.

Johnny doesn’t shift or sigh, not even when Donghyuck gets up and his chair groans. “I’ll be right there,” he says, aching and happier.

* * *

It is not often that Donghyuck is home by himself. His mother is at work and the twins are at a friend’s house, but even then Johnny is usually home. He had kissed Donghyuck this morning and said goodbye, that he’ll return in the evening, that he has business to attend to.

The window of Donghyuck’s bedroom had been opened, Donghyuck remembers that much. It had been closed the night before. Donghyuck wonders what the wind brought.

Still, he has Dohee, and she has gotten to the point where she’s a handful on her own. “She’s nearly walking,” Johnny said proudly, holding her hands while she took sloppy steps. “It will be a week or two, no more.”

Everything has been doubly baby proofed, but Donghyuck still keeps a worried eye on her as she babbles and crawls around. She hates being confined to the living room, often gets stuck behind the crouch, and will scream if she miraculously finds herself beneath the coffee table.

Donghyuck hums quietly, peeling potatoes for dinner. Ever since he spent the night with Johnny he’s found himself languid, almost lazy. Is this what contentment does to people? He laughs. It’s not like him to be so at ease, but the following days have been easy. It’s easy to allow Johnny to be close to him, to convince himself he is no longer afraid of his own head. He thinks that Johnny has seen the worst of him and still thinks all the best.

It is...eye opening.

Dealing with the knowing look from his mother in the morning was not as easy, but she laughed and said she was happy for them, and Donghyuck laughs to himself now remembering.

And Johnny has been incredible. The happiness that bloomed between them is palpable. More than the lack of rain, it is the beaming sun and cloudless sky that Donghyuck notices. It’s the freeness with which Johnny reaches for him, now that he knows he is allowed.

“Thank you,” he says every morning and every night, against Donghyuck’s grinning mouth.

The knife slips in his hand and his finger blooms red. “Ah.” Donghyuck laughs at himself.

Well, some things are not easy.

Dohee has found herself under the coffee table, and Donghyuck sucks his thumb into his mouth as he races around the island to rescue her before her screams send the police after them. “You’re fine,” he tells her, pulling her out of her prison. “And you got there yourself, you silly girl.”

There is a knock on the door.

Donghyuck’s mouth tastes of copper as he checks the clock above the stove. It is too early for his mother to return, but Johnny’s estimated return was vague at best. Donghyuck smiles, setting Dohee free in the living room.

He’s about to remind Johnny the door is unlocked when there is a fluttering at the windowsill. Donghyuck has made sure to put the rice out again, even though the birds keep him company regardless. The rook is here again, the bird that with the watchful eyes, and she does not peck at the rice but stares at Donghyuck with unearthly stillness.

“Hello,” he says, tentative.

Again, there is a knock on the door.

Donghyuck takes a step towards the foyer and the bird _wails._

It is that human cry, the one that made Donghyuck’s heart shake over and over, the horrible sound. Donghyuck’s blood turns to ice. “Stop it,” he tells her. She does not move, only watches him closely. “I can’t play your games today.”

Some things are not easy. Suddenly, today is uneasy.

Another knock, heavier.

Donghyuck takes another step towards the front door, and the bird follows him. She rests on the table in the hallway, feathers ruffled. She has never entered the house, not since that first night. Donghyuck stares at her, eyebrows furrowed.

His phone is heavy in his pocket.

_Jaemin,_ he types out, one eye on the front door. _If you don’t hear from me—_

Someone is kicking the hardwood now, angry.

_Tell Mark something is happening._

Rattling the doorknob. Rattling the window panes.

The bird does not move.

_Tell Mark to find Johnny._

It is not Johnny at the door. Donghyuck knows that now. His stomach is too tight. His thumb blooms red across his palm. If someone is at their door, and Johnny is not here — where is Johnny?

“Hello,” says a voice, sugar. “Won’t you open the door?”

Donghyuck has no worries. He does not hear the calling of the crow. His hand curls around the door knob. Of course. Of course, of course. Red on metal, copper in his mouth, fog in his head, caw in his ear, candy in his eyes.

“Hello,” says a voice, a woman, beautiful. Standing on his porch. Familiar. “Donghyuck, won’t you invite us in?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> （´・｀ ）♡


	11. hungry eyes, her ancient soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donghyuck tries to look at the women with eyes that _see_ , with a mind that _works_ , but the details blur more and more as the seconds pass. Donghyuck slips into something he is not sure he can escape from, but he feels it like sinking into murky water.
> 
> He smiles. His burden is lighter.
> 
> He leads the women into the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, two months late with starbucks: whoops  
> sorry yall december/january suck at work so hard. also like the world is ending that's not according to keikaku 
> 
> big thanks to mel and ellie! hard chapter for me. enjoy~

Donghyuck doesn’t know enough to shut the door, or to ask them to leave. He doesn’t know anything. He only knows a beautiful smile and the touch of a manicured finger against his cheek.

The weight of the touch is seismic. The air changes. Donghyuck’s ears pop, if he were capable of noticing. He is not capable of noticing. His mouth moves — invitation without welcome — and the women breeze through the doorway.

Outside, there is no rustling of the wind or swaying of trees. The clatter of bugs is silent. Not even the flutter of a bird’s wing. No cars pass. Time does not trudge on — everything has stopped in its tracks like a held breath. The only things that move are the clouds, darkening. Donghyuck feels sluggish and frozen, as though he’s moving through water. As though there is cement at his ankles. He feels at peace and horribly off-balance. He feels…

Welcoming.

There are five. Two of them smile at him like old friends with blood on their mouths. They are all beautiful in the way dead and dangerous things are beautiful. They are beautiful in a way that is wrong, cold, cruel, distant, but they smell like wildflowers and sage and something that makes Donghyuck’s eyes burn as the clouds hang like an omen overhead.

His mind is a haze. He shuts and locks the door behind the last woman and wonders why he does so. The clouds thicken.

The first woman drinks in the house, takes a deep breath, and frowns.

The crow caws.

“Won’t you be quiet?” says the last woman, who appears to be the youngest. She crosses her arms and leans on the credenza, eyes narrowed at the bird. “Haven’t you already lost this one?”

What a strange thing to say to a bird.

Donghyuck tries to look at the woman with eyes that _see_ , with a mind that _works_ , but the details blur more and more as the seconds pass. Donghyuck slips into something he is not sure he can escape from, but he feels it like sinking into murky water.

He smiles. His burden is lighter.

“Yerim,” says another woman, her hair a honeyed blonde. “Stop teasing the thing. It’s better when they’re scattered. Don’t provoke too much.”

“It would take far too long for him to gather completely,” points out the tallest, her mouth a twisted red. She laughs lightly. “He’d be beside himself if he weren’t split in fifty pieces.”

“We’ve never been safe _or_ sorry,” says the red woman. “What can she do to us like this? Yell a little?” She smiles cutely at the bird. “It’s not like anyone will hear.”

There is a hand at Donghyuck’s shoulder, climbing up his neck and snaking under his chin, and Donghyuck allows his head to be turned. The fifth woman hangs off his arm, eyes bored. “I don’t see what the fuss is about,” she says, her breath fluttering across Donghyuck’s glazed expression. “Humans are so…”

A harsher grip, and Donghyuck’s head is turned around to the first woman. She is beautiful, dainty, and on fire. Her hand at his jaw might bruise. Donghyuck cannot bring himself to mind, although he wonders if he should. “Humans die. That’s what they do. They just take up space.”

“Do you think they have a dog?” Yerim asks suddenly, walking further into the house.

Donghyuck wants to answer and finds he cannot.

“That cat might be wandering around here somewhere,” says the blond woman happily, wandering after. “If I find it, can I kill it?”

“Wendy,” the fifth woman clucks, standing up from where she hangs on Donghyuck still. If it’s a chastisement it’s lighthearted. “There are better things to do with bothersome magical creatures, you know.”

The first woman lets go of Donghyuck’s jaw and with a whoosh, the blood rushes to Donghyuck’s head. He stumbles, wavers like the earth as it rocks, and leans back against the door. His knees buckle. “Ah…”

They stare at him.

“Seulgi,” the first woman says.

Seulgi — the fifth — whispers into Donghyuck’s ear, sugar. “Won’t you show us around?” Her fingers twine around his wrist. Her grip is iron and Donghyuck is made of light and air; it burns like he’s in a fairy tale.

He’s in a fairy tale.

He leads the women into the house.

Donghyuck does not have many thoughts, but there is one that blares. He cannot understand the words. There is a great sense of foreboding and then the grip at his wrist tightens and there is nothing at all. Not a single thought. Not a hint of light.

The bird stares at them as they pass. Donghyuck takes them into the kitchen.

He wonders...and finds he cannot wonder.

Seulgi brushes flecks of rice off the windowsill with a curled lip. The red woman tears leaves off of the plant in the corner while Yerim opens the refrigerator and peers inside. She picks up containers and throws those that do not please her on the tile floor thoughtlessly.

The first woman looks at the brooding clouds outside and shuts the kitchen window.

“He will not make it in time if we do not want him to,” Wendy says. She runs her finger along the marble countertop and flicks dust on the floor. “He is lucky we’re so kind.”

The red woman snorts. She tosses her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “Kind.”

“He is lucky we have not lost our temper,” the first woman rephrases. She stares at Donghyuck.

Donghyuck stares back.

There is something horrifically wrong.

“Joohyun,” says Seulgi, and the first woman’s eyes slip to her sister’s back.

Dohee cries.

That blaring thought blasts through Donghyuck’s head like a nail struck by a hammer. He should not have taken them to the living room. _Do not take them to the living room. Do not let them in,_ but it is too late. Donghyuck rocks again, hands gripping the kitchen counter. He might vomit. He really might vomit.

Joohyun brushes her fingers against the back of his hand and Donghyuck feels nothing.

“He hid an entire child from us.” Seulgi crouches down, eye level with Dohee who is standing with her chubby hands gripping the coffee table. Dohee’s eyes are watery and her face is red and she is not wailing. “This stupid god…” She tilts her head. Her eyes glint like gold coins. “Men can’t hide anything from a woman with power.”

“Not for long,” Joohyun says. Her nails dig into the back of Donghyuck’s hand.

Wendy walks forward and plucks Dohee from the ground. She holds Dohee close and coos, the way someone might hold an animal. “You are a cute...thing...aren’t you?”

Yerim snorts. “I don’t think that’s how you talk to children.”

“How do you talk to children, then?” is the short reply. Wendy shuffles her grip to hold Dohee close to her chest, too fast. Her hands are awkward and her frown is stubborn.

“I don’t care.” Yerim shrugs.

Still, the child does not wail. Through it all Dohee is still and quiet. Still...still...She should be wailing. Her eyes are wide. She goes limp and docile in the woman’s arms.

Nausea rises in Donghyuck’s stomach. No amount of blood-tipped nails or sugared words can keep bile down for long enough. He does not move. He does not make a sound. He is sweating, too hot, overwhelming, feeling nothing.

The bird cries in that human voice. There is fluttering on the windowsill. Hadn’t the woman shut the latch?

Donghyuck does not look away from Dohee and this strange woman. Wrong. Everything is wrong.

Manicured nails push Dohee’s hair away from her face. “She is dipped in magic,” Wendy hums. Dohee looks at her, unblinking. “This whole house is dipped in magic. She’s a sponge.”

Yerim comes along and hooks her chin over Wendy’s shoulder. “We could take her instead of the cat.” Like it’s a joke. Like it’s a game.

Donghyuck’s hands jerk and Joohyun’s nail draws an angry red line in his skin. His heart is...wrong. His brain is wrong. He has to...leave? He has to leave. He has to grab Dohee and leave. Leave now. He closes his eyes to find his balance and when he opens them Joohyun is peering at his profile.

“Is that what’s happened to you?” she wonders aloud, tracing the line of Donghyuck’s jaw, chin, mouth with her fingers. In the air it smells of burning, herbal and sharp. “Is that why you don’t want to listen to me any more? Dipped in magic one time too many?”

A mistake. “I—”

A _mistake._ A horrible mistake.

Donghyuck’s body is rooted to the spot beneath her hand. Her skin turns jaundiced and her eyes are coal in sunken sockets. Her voice rings too loud and Donghyuck almost remembers his ears bleeding. “ _Is that what he’s done to you?_ ”

He can’t answer. Her hand is at his throat.

The red woman hugs him to her chest and everything dims for a moment, a blissful moment. “ _We won’t hurt anyone,_ ” she croons, petting Donghyuck’s hair. “ _We just want John to know we’re watching, that’s all. That’s all._ ”

There is thunder outside. There is no rain or storm, just dry earth and trembling sky.

Joohyun smirks.

Donghyuck is coddled.

“Our brother won’t be happy if we take the girl,” Seulgi notes quietly.

“Our brother won’t be happy either way,” Wendy replies.

Joohyun’s voice is cold. “Our brother will get over it.”

Here, the universe blurs as though she waves her hands and smudges the colors. Donghyuck has the feeling that he should be keeping track of time, should be keeping track of many things — his _sister_ , oh god — but a hand brushes his skin and he’s swept away.

He takes them to his room.

“Oh, look at all the cute _things_ ,” the red woman coos, picking Dohee’s skirts and socks out of the laundry bin on Donghyuck’s bed. She perches two sneakers in the palm of her hands. They don’t match. “It would be so fun dressing up a child.”

“We haven’t seen children in decades,” whines Yerim, flopping on the bed. “What do they need other than cute clothes?”

“I don’t know.” Wendy hums. She’s got Dohee comfortably in her arms now, and she peers into the passive face. Dohee blinks at her, unusually somber. “What do you need?” The woman asks. “Sleep? Food?”

The red woman scoffs. “That sounds annoying.”

Donghyuck opens his mouth. His head aches and he presses the heels of his hands into the building pressure of his eye sockets. “Um…”

The earth rumbles. It shakes the shutters of his open window.

The women stare at him.

“He’s very troublesome,” Seulgi notes.

Joohyun sharpens her gaze to a point and Donghyuck feels it pierce skin. “Sooyoung.” Her voice is idle.

The red woman’s hand at his throat is harsh — wasn’t she just on the other side of the room? Wasn’t she just...just…She’s saying something but Donghyuck can’t hear her anymore. There’s the buzz of white noise in his ears, like he spent too long by the old trains, or was too close at a concert. It drowns out everything else.

His head _really_ fucking hurts.

— _nghyuck._

Donghyuck takes a deep breath.

There is a human cry that is not human. _Take her back_. It is many voices, all at once.

Joohyun slams the windows shut and pulls the latch. She turns to Donghyuck with her dark eyes, and the purple circles, and the yellowed skin, like she’s already long dead but is somehow desperately alive. Her mouth is still a pretty line, even twisted like a gnarled root. “The mountain is rooting for you?” she scoffs. It’s horribly derisive, corrosive, poison. “The birds are rooting for you? Even Sicheng. It makes me _sick._ ” She floats past, her hair trailing unnaturally behind like she’s underwater. The air feels thick and oppressive.

Donghyuck feels quite sick, himself. The pressure of Her is...he wobbles, bracing himself on the table. The desk trembles, the pens clatter, the book nearly tips off the edge.

Sooyoung clicks her tongue. “Really? You’re doing too much, Joohyun.” She looks at Donghyuck reeling and pouts, as though his nausea is an inconvenience. “Why do I have to work so hard?” She steps forward anyway.

“He’s been with our brother for too long,” Seulgi says. “Isn’t that what we’re here to rectify?”

The bird is pecking at the window. More white noise. Too many voices. _The book. The book._

Donghyuck’s hand touches dry pages, dry flower petals, and it becomes quiet save the rolling thunder.

Sooyoung freezes, her hand pulling back. The red at her mouth drips into something wicked, her face gaunt and weathered as though someone peeled film off of Donghyuck’s eyes and showed him what is true.

Quietly, curiously — what a thing, to be curious again — Donghyuck pulls the crushed snowdrop out of the book and twirls the stem in his hands. It is a slow return to time as she ticks, the haze over his mind lifting in wafts and making way for dark dread, but by the time he is aware enough to realize he must go, must _take her and run_ the women still have not moved.

Yerim sighs. “Damn.”

There is a horrible, unearthly moment where everything that Donghyuck should have been feeling hits him all at once. He rocks with the weight of it, the pressure. There’s pain in the back of his hand. His headache is splitting. The panic clawing its way out of his rib cage spikes up and sends the world into an acidic spiral. His grip on the table goes white-knuckled. Deep breath. Do not panic. _Do not panic._ Panic pains the room blinding red and white and he _cannot panic._

He turns to Joohyun and finds her face a wicked curl. She’s crossed her arms over her chest and her black eyes stare at the flower with distaste. She scoffs. She says nothing.

Seulgi stares at the clouds swirling outside the window with a sigh. Her hair is wild, her skin is pale, her eyes are black.

They still do not move.

In the harsh veil of forced silence, Donghyuck takes uncertain steps towards his sister — towards his sister who is wailing now. She screams as though her lungs might rip in half, and Wendy’s eyebrows furrow when Donghyuck walks forward with the flower in his hand. She takes a step back. Dohee is beside herself, wiggling and squirming and reaching for Donghyuck.

He takes her. He rips her out of this woman’s arms with vitriol, tugging on her clothes and her reaching hands until she is safely tucked in his grasp. His eyes are fire. He hates this woman. He hates her more than he’s hated anything in his entire life.

Wendy does nothing as he takes. She simply hands the child off and lifts her chin, looking Donghyuck head to toe. Her eyes seem to sink in and her nails scratch Donghyuck’s skin but she does nothing.

“Go to hell,” Donghyuck says, his voice raw.

The storm settles in. No rain. Only earth-shattering thunder.

Donghyuck backs out of the room. There is a flash of lightning outside and Donghyuck thinks this is not a good place to be. He holds a wailing Dohee to his chest and runs.

He thinks about running to the mountains, the way he had that first and fateful night, to where the trees are terrifying and bewildering but they love him — seem to love him, protect him, care. He thinks about the front door, and carrying his burdens into the neighborhood. He thinks about the bus schedule. What a stupid thing to think about; if he runs, will the bus be there? Does he even have his card? Stupid. His heart pounds in his chest.

“Go ahead and try the doors, dear,” Joohyun says, and Donghyuck hears Yerim laugh as he ducks into his mother’s room and locks the door.

The flower is close to crushed in his fist. He stumbles backwards. In the mirror he looks like a wild thing. Haunted. He feels haunted. Dohee will not stop crying, but her screams have diminished and she holds onto Donghyuck with surprising strength, her nails digging into Donghyuck’s neck. The small pain is enough of a reminder that he is real, that this is happening, that whatever spell they had him under is over — for the moment. He can’t hear anything other than her and his own heartbeat. He shushes her, smoothes her hair. Calms himself as best he can. Pinches his leg. Runs his hands over the scratchy carpet. Digs a thumb into the bleeding line on the back of his hand. He’s okay. They’re okay. They’re going to be okay. He cannot wait. He has to think. His brain is still slow and dripping out his ears but it races, or tries to. It’s lit on fire by adrenaline and he tries to think but there’s a disconnect. His hands are shaking. He tastes bile in the back of his throat.

He doesn’t think they’ll kill him, but he thinks they’ll take her, and that will kill him quicker than anything.

“Johnny,” Donghyuck asks. “Johnny, where the fuck are you?”

There is pecking on glass.

This stupid bird. This stupid, beautiful bird. Donghyuck stares at it, blinks just a hair longer before his reaction catches up and he realizes that this, too, is real.

Donghyuck throws open the window and the bird looks at him with dark eyes. Donghyuck hears rattling at the doorknob, more laughter, and the fluttering of wings. _Take her and go_. Donghyuck does not need the reminder this time. His mind steels. The blood thumping in his veins is enough of an anchor. The last thing he sees is the bird perched atop the handle before he swings his legs over the windowsill and drops down onto the earth.

When his socked-feet sink into the mud the air changes. He feels like he can breathe but the taste is sharp and it burns on the way down. Dohee makes the dismount clumsy, and Donghyuck is holding her too tightly. The sky is a dark and brutal green, swirling with anger. There is a family of crows lining the fence, hanging in the trees, silent as the wind blows. Donghyuck barely has the time to think before he’s running to the front gate.

His feet are cold. His body is warm. He sees someone at the front door and he is lit on fire. He curses at her in his mind. He shoots daggers at her with his eyes. He wants to ask her how she dares, but he knows the answer: she is powerful, and Donghyuck is not.

The crushed flower in his hands is all he has.

“I’ll admit you’re more fun than I thought you’d be,” Seulgi says, hands on the railing of the front porch. Idly she waves aside the birds that are pecking at her hands. She watches Donghyuck hold the flower between them with flat eyes. “I can see why a god might be taken with you. Desperation and survival are two things they’ll never understand. I’m sure he finds it fascinating.”

Donghyuck swallows. “You speak like you’re not a god.” His voice sounds shaken, like he might weep. His chest feels tight, like he might weep. He will not. He would rather shake to pieces than weep for this woman.

“I’m less than a god.” She blinks, slow. “And more, all the same.”

Her eyes flicker to the front gate.

The black cat hops up onto the post. The ground rumbles.

Donghyuck laughs, hysterical.

“I’m sorry,” Johnny says as the cement cracks beneath his feet. Asphalt shatters, his weight unimaginable. The pressure in the air becomes unbearable, like gravity is readjusting for something it’s never seen before. “Donghyuck, I’m so immeasurably sorry.”

Donghyuck is still laughing. It boils out of him, something he can’t keep down, and he leans on the fence to hold himself up lest he falls to his knees. He crushes Dohee against his chest. He reels. _Where were you? Where have you been? What have you been doing?_ “Are you okay?” His free hand reaches out and hesitates.

There is golden ichor dripping from Johnny’s temple, his hair sticking flatly to his skull, and there are tears in the ugly old sweater he always wears around the house. Smears of red and gold along the skin Donghyuck can see, vestiges of gore and writing. Donghyuck wants to reach out and touch, soothe, be soothed, but there is crackling lightning around his fingers and Donghyuck has never seen him look so dangerous.

The earth shakes. The cat’s tail curls lazily.

There is a hand at Donghyuck’s cheek and unlike all the others, it’s welcome. The electricity tickles. Donghyuck closes his eyes. Dohee quiets. Donghyuck kisses her head.

On the porch, the women stand in the doorway, proud. Joohyun’s face is still sickly and dead, but the others have regained themselves enough to look haunting. Yerim laughs at the expression on Johnny’s face. “You always did run just a little late, didn’t you?”

No response beyond the shaking sky. Johnny does not tear his eyes away from Donghyuck falling to pieces.

She sobers. “500 years and you couldn’t even say hello?”

Johnny’s face is complicated. Donghyuck watches the expression shift, and when his eyes finally leave Donghyuck he is so overwhelmed he can hardly bear it. Donghyuck will not shatter. He will not weep. He takes a deep breath and sets his shoulders.

“It will be alright,” Johnny says, reassuring words that are dark and harsh. His eyes burn into the women on the porch. Joohyun lifts her chin, stubborn. “I will make things alright.” He pushes Donghyuck through the gate. “Go.”

“Are you okay?” Donghyuck asks again. He grabs at Johnny’s wrist. Dohee reaches for Johnny, just the same.

Birds fly overhead, too many. _Take her and go._

Johnny does not look at him again. “You will not want to see me like this.” His jaw clenches, and his eyes are sad. “Please go.”

Donghyuck goes.

He doesn’t know where he’s going. The bus seems foolish for no reason — too mundane almost — but he can’t take the bus because his wallet is sitting on the dining room table. He could go to the mountain and get lost forever. He could call Renjun or Jaemin and have them send their powerful gods to pick Donghyuck up on the side of the road.

The earth quivers so violently that Donghyuck stumbles down the road. He turns over his shoulder and sees the clouds circling over his house. The wind whips through his hair and the sky is a threat, not quite a storm but the spirit of one. A newspaper blows across the asphalt. Someone’s bike falls to the ground.

Granny Lim is standing on the sidewalk. There are three cats at her feet and an empty watering can in her hands. Her caftan swirls around her in the wind, a whipping orange haze. She is the only person outside, the only thing alive other than the wind and the rain and whatever is left of Donghyuck. She smiles. “Good morning,” she says, and Donghyuck is near hysterics.

It’s not the morning anymore. It’s high noon, maybe later. It’s hard to tell with this false night. “Please go home, Granny,” he says, begging. He can barely hear himself over Dohee’s crying. “Please go home.”

“And where will you go?” she asks.

Donghyuck doesn’t have an answer. He opens his mouth but cannot find one.

She turns on her heels, slow and creaking. “Let’s go, then.”

The black cat joins her family, four languid creatures, and Donghyuck hesitates but a moment — staring at the disaster brewing behind him — before following Granny Lim down the street.

He has not been inside Granny Lim’s house in many years. Not since he was very young and would come over to take care of the cats when she went to visit her nephew, or when she needed her lawn mowed and invited him in for lemonade and dry sugar cookies. He hesitates in the doorway. He looks towards his house at the end of the street.

“You’re letting the bad air in,” Granny Lim complains, and Donghyuck dutifully comes inside and closes the door behind himself.

It looks much the same as it did in Donghyuck’s memory. There is clutter everywhere, books and knickknacks and blankets and cat beds and toys and plants and paintings and anything else that an old woman might find and have a spot for. The furniture is in good shape, but the house smells only of cats and gin and aloe vera.

When the door shuts behind them, there is quiet.

In his arms, Dohee quiets almost immediately — not as though her mouth is held shut but as though she can tell that something terrible is over. She tapers off until she is sniveling in Donghyuck’s shirt.

“I’m sorry about the mud,” Donghyuck says politely. His feet are caked in dirt and earth, and the color seeps into the shag carpet.

Granny Lim ignores him completely. “Sit, sit.” The cats scatter to their respective corners, and the black cat hops up on the stoop of her shoulders. She pets her head idly. “You look like a good wind might blow you over.”

“Really?” Donghyuck says weakly. He looks down at Dohee in his arms and smoothes her hair down. She is still holding onto Donghyuck like a vice, her eyes big and wet. He wipes snot off of her face with his shirt and rubs a thumb over her cheek. “I feel like it already tried.”

“If you faint in my house I’ll be very upset.” Granny Lim jabs a crooked finger at him. “You wouldn’t upset an old lady, would you?”

With a sigh, Donghyuck delicately maneuvers around the mess and collapses onto the couch. Dohee babbles senselessly in his ear, distraught, and he rubs her back. He is still a live-wire. Sitting down feels like a death sentence. “We should…” Leave. Go very far away.

“I’m old.” Granny Lim says again. “Don’t make me run around without reason!”

A ginger cat hops onto the couch and nuzzles their head against Dohee’s leg.

“Do you have…” Donghyuck bites his lip. There’s no reason for Granny Lim to have a toddler’s cup.

“Probably,” she says. Her eyes soften. “Just ask.”

Donghyuck takes a deep breath and asks.

Not long after Dohee is half-way through a cup of milk and her eyes are drooping. The ginger cat rubs their face along her cheeks and purrs like a lullaby.

“I have space if you want to lay her down,” Granny Lim says.

Donghyuck thinks he’d rather die than let her go. “That’s alright.” He looks out the window. There is still no one on the street, no cars. He has no phone, no way to call anyone, although Granny Lim had used the landline to tell Donghyuck’s mother not to come home. It’s the only number Donghyuck remembers off the top of his head.

The sky is still dirty green and gray, but if the world is cracking he can’t hear it in here.

“No one will harm you here,” she says firmly, coming back from her kitchen. She lights a candle and the room smells of cats, gin, aloe vera, and lavender. It makes Donghyuck want to sneeze. The cats crawl around her feet, climb the upholstery, look down at them all from atop boudoir and tower. “They are foolish children who play with their food.” She frowns. “It’s very unsightly.”

“You’re something too, aren’t you?” Donghyuck asks. His heart is pounding but it hurts less and less, less likely to crack his rib cage with its beating.

Granny Lim sits in her old brocade chair with a groan. “What a weird question,” she huffs. “We’re all _something._ ”

“You’re like—”

“I’m not like anything,” Granny Lim finishes for him. She’s made them both a cup of tea, although Donghyuck’s sits untouched on the coffee table. She takes a long sip of hers, delicately putting the cup back on the saucer and looking at Donghyuck with bright eyes. “There are plenty of things in the world you’ve never seen. I’m like myself, and myself only.”

“Thank you,” Donghyuck says, because he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s tired. His headache is monstrous. He’s taut as a wire, fit to snap.

“Sleep, dear,” she tells him. “When you wake, everything will be done.”

Donghyuck lays his head against the pillow and wishes for easy dreams. He doesn’t get them, but he sleeps.

* * *

There’s a knock on the door in the late hours of the evening. There are no birds cawing, no signs of malice, but Donghyuck’s blood pressure spikes anyway.

Granny Lim opens the door and finds a god on her porch.

“Um.” Mark stands awkward and shuffling on her front door step. “Hello.” He swallows. “Nice wards you got there. Very, um, good.” He sneezes.

“Mark?” Donghyuck twists on the couch, a third cup of tea cooling in his hands. He nearly spills it on his lap and sets the cup and saucer down on the table. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh! I got your text.”

Donghyuck blinks at him, confused, until he remembers the hazy moments before he first heard the sugared voice outside on his porch. He pales. “Oh.”

“I’m a bit late,” Mark admits.

The sun is completely down now. “Yeah.”

There’s a blush high on his cheeks. “I didn’t ignore it or anything! I had some things to arrange. Things that were, like, helpful to you at the moment! I swear!”

“It’s okay,” Donghyuck says with a thin smile. Looking back on the morning, he knows that his life was likely safe at the core. Misfortune befalls the weak at the hands of the powerful — especially when they’re careless. To those women, he was meaningless. His misfortune to them would be a good joke. That’s all it was.

A joke.

There’s bile in his throat. He reaches for his tea cup to cleanse out the flavor.

“I’m here to...uh…” Mark rubs his nose. He looks a bit disheveled, the way he does after he’s been playing video games very poorly for far too long. The dark circles under his eyes are bruises. “Sorry. It’s hard to concentrate with all the...you know.” He waves his hand around vaguely. He sneezes again.

Donghyuck doesn’t know, but he can guess. Granny Lim seems pleased more than anything. “I’ll leave you to it,” she says with a rickety hum, going back into her kitchen to clean up the makeshift toys.

Two of the cats curl around Mark’s legs and he reaches down to let them sniff his hand. The tabby gnaws at his fingers delicately. When he straights up there’s a cat in his arms and a question on his face. “Jaemin and I picked up your mom,” he tells Donghyuck, and it hits Donghyuck like a hammer. “The twins, too.”

“Thanks,” he says, raw and genuine. His day has been a foggy mess. He’d slept through most of the light hours and woken up to what felt like a new world, exhausted to the bone. Dohee spent several hours in Granny Lim’s kitchen banging pots and pans, as though she’d completely forgotten the events of the morning, but she would not like Granny Lim hold her, so Donghyuck knows she hasn’t.

Mark scratches the back of his neck. “Your house is still airing out.” Donghyuck doesn’t really know what that means, but Mark scrunches his nose in distaste. “It’ll be...fine. But we decided Dohee and your mom and the twins are all gonna stay with me tonight.”

That’s a lot of people in Jaemin’s living room floor. “You’re already on the couch.”

“Jaemin is spending the night with his parents.” Mark’s expression darkens just a hair. His eyes flit around the room, to Granny Lim and her cat army and the ugly brocade and the doilies. Finally back to Donghyuck, when he seems to have found the right words. “I’ve...put a lot of time and effort into protecting the house. Not as much as Johnny but…” Mark sighs. “It will be safe for the night.”

Donghyuck swallows and his throat is dry. “I don’t want to intrude.” He just wants to go home.

Mark grimaces. “I knew Jaemin should have come, but…” He shakes his head and looks at Donghyuck with wide, childish eyes. “I know we’re not super close or whatever, but Jaemin is important to me, kind of, and you’re important to him. And also I’m not a shitty person. I would rather you guys were, you know...able to rest easy.” He huffs, holding the cat too hard until it mewls and jumps out of his arms onto the couch. “Because otherwise it’s just unfair.”

Donghyuck pets the tabby idly, just for something to do. “Your family is the one that did this in the first place.”

“They don’t really care about me, man.” Mark is still hanging in the doorway, taking in the room. “My family is like, dead. And then my family was Hyuna, and she’s gone. Now my family is Jaemin sometimes. And you, I guess,” he adds belatedly. “They don’t care about me at all.”

“Oh.” Donghyuck frowns at the cat clawing at ratted lace. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Mark shoves his hands into his pockets. “They’re more trouble than they’re worth, dude, on a good day.”

Donghyuck laughs. He laughs hard, stifling it in shaking hands. He runs a hand through his hair as the tremors stop. He wants to thank Mark. Instead he says, “I’ll help you with the car seat.”

Outside the air is stagnant, the way it might be just after catastrophe. Donghyuck doesn’t want to look down the street towards his house so he doesn’t. He focuses on the single task in front of him and no further.

When the car seat is properly prepared and Donghyuck goes inside to grab Dohee, he finds Granny Lim sitting at her kitchen table stitching embroidery into clothing Donghyuck has never seen before. She hums a simple song, and it’s familiar. Donghyuck lets it wash over him.

“Are you leaving, dear?” she asks between the threads of her needle.

“I…” He sighs. “Yes.”

“And where are you going?” Her eyes flicker up at him. “Something tells me your bones have not settled in for the night.”

That’s true. Donghyuck’s energy today has been a waxing and waning of adrenalin and exhaustion, and Mark’s arrival set off his jitters something fierce. “Is our house ruined?” Donghyuck asks.

There’s no reason for Granny Lim to know. She’s been inside all day the same as Donghyuck. “No,” she answers, despite it all. “You are not dealing with a new soul, you know. Your boy has grown careful over the years.” Granny Lim cackles. “Of course, I doubt it’s in perfect repair.”

“I want to know what happened,” Donghyuck admits.

“You know what happened at the house,” Granny Lim tells him reasonably. The shape of her thread becomes a leaf on a vine. She hardly looks at him. “Perhaps you should go somewhere else, and learn what happened there.”

Donghyuck makes a face. “That’s a bit vague, Granny.”

“I’m just an old woman.” She smoothes out the golden thread with her fingers. “I don’t know anything. Just do what feels right. Thinking takes too long.”

“Is that how you lived this long?” Donghyuck asks, half-teasing. The cats meander into the kitchen, old hat. The black cat jumps up onto the table and stares at Donghyuck with eyes like coins.

“I’ve lived this long because I made the choice to do so,” Granny Lim says simply. “You’ve lived this long because you worked hard to. I wonder what will happen when you have a choice.”

Mark is still waiting for Donghyuck outside, so Donghyuck goes to pick up Dohee and takes her to the car.

“Why are there so many straps?” Mark asks.

“Because babies are wiggly,” Donghyuck answers. It’s the simplest thing he’s said all day, and perhaps the most true. Dohee reaches for him as he draws back to buckle her up. He smoothes her hair down one last time and kisses her nose.

Mark hops into the driver’s seat. “Are you coming?” he asks through the lowered window.

Donghyuck almost nods.

If he goes to his family right now he will not leave them. He will hold on too tightly. His nerves are not settled. He needs his family. He needs to know.

“I’ll be there soon,” he says.

Mark doesn’t look surprised. “You look like you could use a prayer or two,” he says.

Donghyuck thinks that’s probably true. “Thank you,” he says casually. He means it deeply.

“You’re welcome.” Mark says it casually. Donghyuck isn’t sure how he means it. “You’re safe for the night. They won’t do anything more than they already have.” He shifts the car into gear. “Have a nice walk.”

“Uh, before you go.” Donghyuck laughs. “Do you have an extra pair of shoes?”

* * *

There is something very calming about returning to the land of the living. The people on the bus lack liveliness — that much is always true — but the moment Donghyuck steps out onto the sidewalk there is the bustling of the townspeople and the clatter of cars and the stuttering of neon lights that are in need of repair. There are people locking up shops and others eating sandwiches outside the deli and the dinging bell of corner stores as people come in and out for snacks or change or cigarettes. It’s alive in a way Donghyuck hasn’t been for several hours.

His street is dead and this one is alive and it soothes the ragged edges, the reminder that the world is still turning. That he’s okay.

Donghyuck digs a nail into the back of his hand just to make sure he can feel it. He thanks the bus driver and heads down the hill.

In the air, Donghyuck can feel the dark aura. He wonders if the people around him can feel it as well. The closer Donghyuck gets to the old temple, the thinner the crowd is. It’s not a populated area on the best of days, but he wonders if people are staying away because they can tell that something sad has happened here.

It makes Donghyuck’s stomach roll, but he thinks he owes it to Johnny, to himself, to someone and he keeps moving forward. Down the hill, through the dark, amongst the ruin. The building is much the same as it had been before. Johnny’s return to power has had some sort of effect, certainly. There is less graffiti, and the weeds are gone. It seems that someone mowed the grass recently, and when Donghyuck pushes open the doors the hinges don’t announce his arrival.

There is still a waterfall in the sanctuary, still cracked stone and overturned pew. There are new pictures on the walls, beautiful street art — birds, thunder, earth, fire. Rage and temperance. The details are difficult to make out in the dark. Donghyuck’s phone flashlight can only do so much.

Despite it all, there is a peaceful feeling here. It is quiet and secluded. There is a creaking that Donghyuck cannot place.

There is blood on the altar.

It is not human blood. It is gold, and it is grotesque. There is far more of it than Donghyuck had been expecting. There is enough of it that Donghyuck might suspect someone died here, had he not known any better. There is enough of it that the drip drip drip of it falling onto the stone floor echoes.

Donghyuck steels himself. He has steeled himself so often he thinks his heart might be made of metal, save the way it breaks.

Gold shines against the harsh light from his phone, and Donghyuck picks his way over shifted debris until he is at a proper place to worship. The stone slab is cracked and crumbling, blood falling onto the treasure beneath, and Donghyuck finds himself face to face with something else terribly new.

Rose thorns and ivy grow out of the cracks. Small purple flowers — aster — grow in bushels where flowers should never grow, over stone and harsh earth. Clover pops up like weeds. The vines drink in the ichor like water and, still growing, pull the stone further and further apart, on and on.

Donghyuck plucks a daisy from the ground with a frown.

When he shines his flashlight on the altar, he finds more pieces of truth that he can’t fit together. He finds smears of red and chalk, letters written in tandem that he has never seen before. Old magic, he assumes, the sort that Johnny has never shown him. He reaches out, ready to smear his fingers through the mess, but his heart tells him _no no no_. He pulls back with a sigh.

This dark and dangerous energy, latent.

Donghyuck can see what Mark meant by saying their home needed airing out.

There is gold on the walls, and more writing, and more aster. More thorns. More wild and unimaginable rage. More destruction. More story. Donghyuck doesn’t know where to begin with it all.

Should he pray? _Johnny…_ Donghyuck is so tired, and there is sadness here that aches. “What did they do to you?” he asks aloud.

“You should not be here.”

“You said I shouldn’t be home, either,” Donghyuck says, and when he turns around he finds that the hinges neglected to announce Johnny’s entry. He isn’t surprised. He smiles, even — Johnny has always found him when he needs to. The smile is small and sad. “Am I wrong for wanting to know?”

Johnny purses his mouth. He looks better than he did before, more tempered. His hair is tied back out of his face and the blood there has been washed away. He hangs in the doorway, unsure. “You’re not wrong.” He grimaces. “I just...wish you didn’t.”

With Johnny here the dark is not so dark.

“Did they do this to you?” Donghyuck asks. He gestures backwards to the terrible scene. “Your own family?”

“Tie me up and make me bleed?” Johnny laughs. The crease of his brow is too deep for levity. “Yes.”

Donghyuck can’t fathom it. “ _Why?_ ” He swallows, thick. Boiling. “They love you.” Isn’t that the whole issue? That they love so fiercely they want to protect, and seclude, and continue loving.

“This sort of thing couldn’t kill me,” Johnny tells Donghyuck. His eyes are heavy on the altar. “An hour or two of pain? What is that to a god beyond a fun trick?”

Donghyuck stares at the thorns and wishes they were his hands, that he could grow and tear apart and end something so unnecessary. He wishes he had that power — he knows he has the passion. “Haven’t you suffered enough?” he demands. The daisy feels small and brittle in his fingertips. “500 years of loneliness and they want to take away one more hour?” He scoffs. “I don’t get it.”

Johnny smiles at Donghyuck. “Come here.” He holds out his hands, and Donghyuck comes despite his fuming.

“I just don’t understand why they hate me so much when they don’t even love you like they should,” Donghyuck spits, and Johnny takes the last few steps to pull Donghyuck into his chest. He smells like the storm. Like old rage. “I just don’t understand.”

“They don’t hate you,” Johnny says.

Donghyuck laughs and it sounds sad. “Joohyun hates me.”

“Joohyun hates humans. She’s been...well.” Johnny buries his face in Donghyuck’s hair. “I won’t make excuses for her. Above all, they’ve forgotten how to properly care.”

It is quiet save the dripping, the breathing, and the unspoken words. “Tell me what happened, please,” Donghyuck asks. His voice is an echo. For a moment, all he can hear is his own voice, the rise and fall of Johnny’s breathing, but he can still hear that drip drip drip of gold on hard stone if he listens closely enough.

Johnny chews on his lip, thoughtful. “I have been working with Sicheng to make a deal. I called them here to discuss things, and it went wrong.” He looks at the fire in Donghyuck’s face and then away. “I thought that, in my own territory, things would be alright. I was wrong.” Bitter. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

Donghyuck doesn’t say what he wants to say, that it’s okay or that Johnny shouldn’t blame himself. “Was it terrible?” he asks instead. There are smears of red words still strewn around Johnny’s wrists, and his side visible through the holes in his shirt.

“Did the binding hurt?” Johnny’s brow furrows, and Donghyuck knows him well enough to recognize him weighing his options. “It...did. It was…” He sighs. “It was many of the worst hours of my life, because I knew I had something to lose.”

There is too much sadness here, in what should be a place of worship and became a ruin and ruinous. Donghyuck tucks the daisy behind Johnny’s ear. He hums gently, swallows down ire and bile. “You owe Doyoung.”

Johnny catches Donghyuck’s hand and presses it to his own cheek. “I owe you, and many others.” He looks down at Donghyuck and it’s baleful. “You, who asked for help. Mark, who made the request. Doyoung, who put aside his pretending for long enough to care.”

“The birds,” Donghyuck adds, his thumb sweeping over Johnny’s cheek.

Johnny’s smile is wry. “I have long since stopped logging my debt to the birds.”

Gently, Donghyuck touches the spot on Johnny’s temple where the wound had been and finds smooth skin. He sighs. He trembles. He burns. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits. His eyes find the floor. “I am...I can’t do that again.” Nothing. He can’t do nothing and wait for others. He can’t let people suffer just because they’ll live despite it. Not for his own sake.

Deep breath.

It’s not true. He’ll do it over and over, if he has to. If it means surviving.

He thinks it might kill him, eventually.

“Doyoung has his human. I’m sure there are others…” Donghyuck swallows. “I’m just...I don’t understand why this is the line they’ve drawn.” Johnny’s happiness, and his time. Donghyuck’s existence. His family. Their peace.

Johnny kisses Donghyuck’s knuckles. “Because they are afraid of what might come next.”

Donghyuck laughs, derisive. Bitter. “How human of them.” To be powerless about the future.

“We are not human,” Johnny says. “Even if we once were. Even if we wish to be.”

Donghyuck sweeps his flashlight over the gore and gild. He says nothing, just looks, and feels, and steels himself again and again. “Will they ever stop?” He turns back to Johnny and finds his god brooding. Donghyuck sighs. “Forget I asked.”

“I’ll make them stop.”

“For what?” Donghyuck stares at the altar. “So they can give you a few more hours of _this?_ ” His voice is a whisper and it’s acidic. “They’re cruel.”

Johnny doesn’t disagree. “They’re careless. And too powerful to be harmless.”

Donghyuck thinks that’s a diplomatic way of saying they’re dangerous.

A yawn wracks Donghyuck’s body, and he sways until his head is back on Johnny’s chest. “Let’s go. I need to...my mom is probably…”

“Your mother is alright. Your siblings are alright.” Johnny kisses Donghyuck’s forehead, brushes the hair stuck to his skin back off of Donghyuck’s face. “You need to go home, right?”

“The house is airing out.” Donghyuck snorts. “Family will be good enough.”

Johnny leads him out of the temple.

The bus ride back is a blur. Donghyuck had not borrowed enough change from Granny Lim for a return trip, much less an extra traveler, but Johnny simply nods to the driver and they’re allowed on without fuss.

As soon as Donghyuck sits he slips into something like a slumber. His jitters washed away in the face of his knowledge, there is nothing keeping him upright. His spine is useless, his bones and sinew trifles, and he melts into the uncomfortable vinyl seats before the bus has even rumbled out of the stop.

At his side, Johnny hums a familiar song under his breath.

The next thing Donghyuck remembers is being gently roused and half-carried off of the stop by Jaemin’s house. He remembers mumbling a soft thank you to the driver. He remembers Johnny maneuvering him onto his back, hands beneath Donghyuck’s knees. He does not remember the long walk. He remembers the singing.

It is a different kind of washing away than the nothingness of the morning. What’s more, it’s welcome. Donghyuck is so tired.

Johnny carries him home.

Vaguely, Donghyuck registers Mark opening Jaemin’s front door. He registers his mother’s terrified voice before she is soothed — “He fell asleep. He’s alright.”

“Mom,” Donghyuck mumbles, groggy. His hands reach and find reaching in return.

Johnny sets him down and his mother pulls him in, too tight, just tight enough. “Everything will be fine,” she says, in that measured way she has. Not at all like she’s convincing herself, although Donghyuck knows she is. “You’re fine. Dohee is fine.”

“You’re fine.” Donghyuck’s words are slurring. He is so tired.

But he sees her smile. “We’re fine.”

She kisses his cheeks and Donghyuck thinks he might be crying. He takes a deep breath.

“Get cleaned up. Sleep,” his mother tells him. “When you wake up—”

“—everything will be done.” The words are familiar. Donghyuck smiles as he says them. His eyes droop, head lolling.

Carefully, Johnny picks him in his arms and carries Donghyuck into the bathroom.

There is care and tenderness in the way Johnny pulls Donghyuck’s shirt over his head, gently tugging the clothes from Donghyuck’s body until he is bare and shivering and the water is warm. Johnny follows suit, his own clothes dropped to the floor, and Donghyuck takes the moment to trace over the writing with his fingers.

“What does it mean?” he asks.

Johnny lifts him into the tub until they’re both sitting and safe. “Nothing anymore.”

Donghyuck’s fingers trail up to the branch of lighting along Johnny’s chest and shoulder. There is pale gold running through Johnny’s hair as the water washes them both clean. Donghyuck’s muscles are sore and tired, and the water washes that away, too.

“Don’t break the shower this time,” Donghyuck says softly. Johnny is warm at his back, and he delights in the feeling of laughter, the way Johnny’s chest moves. The way they move together.

Johnny runs soap through Donghyuck’s hair, fingers kneading into Donghyuck’s neck. The gentle hum of his god in his ear, the rain of the faucet, and the exhaustion of the day. This is the last thing Donghyuck remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

**Author's Note:**

> :)


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